


Can't Help the Way I Melt Around You

by RiotFalling, WhiteIronWolf (adoctoraday)



Series: Bound To You: Phase Two [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Coming Untouched, Dom!Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub, Domspace, Edgeplay, Flashbacks, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Kissing, Light Bondage, M/M, Mentions of casual drug use, Past Non-Con, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sleepy Cuddles, Softe Boys, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Sub!Tony Stark, Subspace, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Wax Play, Withdrawal, cooking as a love language, gentle domination, official meeting of the shitty brain club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 46,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28538019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiotFalling/pseuds/RiotFalling, https://archiveofourown.org/users/adoctoraday/pseuds/WhiteIronWolf
Summary: Tony and Bucky both know there's no straight path when healing from trauma, but it can be an easier path to walk when you've got someone to rely on, to trust in, to care for.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Series: Bound To You: Phase Two [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030995
Comments: 65
Kudos: 204





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Join us in our tumblr group chat and get sneak peeks of new chapters, discuss meta and headcanons, and participate in easter egg hunts for spoilers!](https://www.tumblr.com/chat/0_JOa_w6Jki6xyaWadq4Ww/bound-to-you)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written by WhiteIronWolf
> 
> [You can find me @TheRollingStonys on tumblr! Just ask for Mod Stella!](https://therollingstonys.tumblr.com/)

_He kneels because he is a good asset, a good sub. He does not fight, because subs do not fight—they take what their master gives them and say thank you when it’s done._

_He finds it hard to say thank you when his jaw is dislocated after, but he forces the words out through drool and blood and cum anyways._

_He’s been good, and pliant, a tool for them to use._

_Everything hurts, but he has taken it without complaint, and when he’s allowed to rise to his feet his insides throb, aching and burning deeply so that he limps with every step as he’s taken to medical._

_They repair the damage and then he’s given an injection and guided back into the chamber, the edges of the world going fuzzy and grey._

_Before he goes away he thinks, **this isn’t right, this isn’t me….**_

**_But who am I?_ **

* * *

When Bucky wakes he’s out of bed and in a position that’s horrifyingly familiar: on his knees, hands behind his back, each of them grabbing onto the opposite forearm. 

_Fuck_

Disgust swells in him like a sick wave and his head swims with conflicting urges. 

_Submit_

_Resist_

Nausea burns the back of his throat, bitter with bile and his mouth waters, a precursor to worse. 

He needs to _move_ , to get up and get out of this position but the urge to submit is too strong, like a vice around his lungs, keeping him locked in place. 

He needs to fight it, to take control. 

_Kneel Asset_ a voice orders in his head, rough and cruel. 

No no no no he doesn’t want this, he doesn’t! 

_KNEEL_

He whines like a kicked dog and swallows hard, unshed tears burning in his eyes, a sob locked up in his chest, desperate to be free, but he won’t be free until one of his handlers says he is, he knows that, _knows_ he needs to be a good asset. 

_Fuck_ that’s not right...is it? 

He whimpers and shakes his head, dizzy as the blood pounds in his head. He can’t think straight, he can’t…

He is malfunctioning. 

He needs service. 

He begs, but none of the handlers come. 

So he sits.

And waits. 

And waits. 

He will be a good asset. 

* * *

When he comes back to himself he’s curled in the corner of his bedroom with a knife in one hand, eyes fixed on the kitchen where Sam is sitting at the table, concern in his warm eyes. 

Bile rises swift and hot in his throat and he moves fast, making it to the toilet just in time to heave, tears burning down his face as he coughs and spits and then heaves again. He hears the kitchen chair shift and the sound of footsteps approaching and he makes some kind of sound in warning, the knife still in his hand a threat. 

He can hear Sam’s steady heartbeat outside the room, and then footsteps receding back to the kitchen as he vomits again, cold sweat on his neck and back, his shirt sticking sickly to his skin. He shakes and pants, the urge to submit fading and leaving him shaky and weak. 

Bucky flushes the toilet and then crawls into a crouch, slowly rising to his feet, black spots in his vision as he sways dizzily, clutching at the sink for stability. His mouth tastes bitter and he hunches over the sink to drink from the tap and swish it around his mouth till the vile taste of fear and vomit is gone. 

He splashes some of the cool water on his face and then wipes it off onto the hem of his shirt, wrinkling his sensitive nose at the scent of rank fear that’s leached into the fabric. He tugs off the shirt and tosses it into the hamper, grabs the washcloth from the shower and wets it, wiping himself down quickly till the scent is nearly gone. 

Bucky stumbles a little as he leaves the bathroom, head still dizzy, lungs not working quite right—his breathing feels tight and unsteady. He pauses when he sees his favorite red henley sweater laid out on the bed for him, the well worn fabric like a balm on his soul. 

It’s torn in places and stretches easily over his bulk, and feels _perfect_ against his hypersensitive skin. He picks it up and blinks back tears, a sudden rush of gratitude filling him—Sam must have gotten it out for him. 

His limbs feel heavy when he pulls it on, and he sighs when it settles around his frame like a snug, warm hug. 

_Tony_

_God_ what he wouldn’t give for one of Tony’s hugs right now. He swallows hard at the thought and tugs the sleeves down over his hands, tucking them up under his arms as he shuffles into the kitchen where Sam has the curtains down and the lights off—the warm amber glow from his kitschy salt rock essential oil steamer pleasant to his sensitive vision. 

He doesn’t look at Sam as he sits down across the table from him, nor when he pushes a mug of gently steaming tea at him—mint, from the smell of it. He nods his thanks and then wraps his hands around it, shuddering as the heat leaches into his bones. 

He stares at the mug for a long time, trying to form words, but the more he tries the less he knows what to say. 

So he sips the tea and shivers at the warmth of it burning down his throat and into his belly. 

He still doesn’t know what to say, but at least now his throat isn’t as raw from throwing up repeatedly. There’s honey in here, just the right amount to make it soothingly sweet and gentle without being overpowering. 

His lips twitch and he finally looks up at Sam, unsurprised to find him watching him, eyes dark and warm and kind. He taps a metal finger against the mug and rasps out a _thank you_ that’s barely audible, and Sam nods, but stays quiet. 

They sit like that, the silence a companion, as he drinks his tea and tries to pull his scattered thoughts together into something coherent. It’s more difficult than it has been in a very long time and he tries not to think about the fact that it’s probably because he and Tony hadn’t had a scene last week. 

He glances tiredly at the window and frowns because it was night when he had his episode and it’s night still, but his body tells him that hours—likely many of them—have passed. 

“It’s Wednesday,” Sam tells him softly, drawing his gaze to him. “I called the shop and told them you were sick and would need a few days off. The guys dropped by earlier with some soup and some bread from the bakery across the street from the shop.” 

Bucky exhales shakily, overwhelmed by the kindness of his colleagues. He wipes a hand over his face and shudders, on the edge of tears and forces himself to take slow steady breaths until he’s a little steadier. 

The vibrating of his phone on the table has him jumping, heart pounding in his chest like he’s just been shot, and when he looks at the screen and sees Steve’s name, panic rises in his throat. 

“I can’t, I can’t, Sam, _please_ , I _can’t_ ,” he stutters, hand trembling as he pushes the phone away, shaking his head and curling in on himself. He can barely handle himself right now, there’s no way he can talk to Steve on top of it. 

Sam nods and grabs the phone, swiping to answer as he rises from the chair and wanders into the bathroom. The door is cracked open so he can still hear it when Sam answers; “Hey man, it’s Sam.” 

“Hey! What are you doin with Bucky’s phone?” 

“Oh you know, I stole it while he was sleeping and I’m making questionable purchases from Amazon to fuck with him.”

“Sam!” Steve says laughingly before sobering. “Is he okay? Shouldn’t he be at work?” he asks, worry filling his voice. 

Sam hesitates for a brief moment and then sighs softly, “He’s going to be okay Steve, he had a flashback and needed to sleep it off. He just woke up a little bit ago and we’re having some tea and then some soup.” 

“Should I come down there? Does he need anything? What can I do?” 

“Hey, it’s okay man, I promise, I’m taking care of him. He loves you a lot but too many people right now is going to overwhelm him. Just, take a breath with me, okay?” 

Steve makes a soft sound but joins Sam in taking a few slow, deep breaths and then sighs heavily, sounding almost _lost_ when he speaks again. “I just feel like I’m letting him down Sammy, I don’t know how to help make it better for him.” 

“Steve, what he needs is for you to be there for him when he asks for it and to give him space and time to just learn who he is these days. You’re not letting him down, he knows how much you care and want to help. You just gotta go at his pace and listen to what he needs.”

Steve makes a thoughtful sound and then chuckles softly, “You always make me feel better Sam, how do you do that?” 

“It’s my superpower,” Sam cracks back with a laugh, “Can’t ever keep up with you on a run, but I can do this.”

Steve laughs softly, “Yea well, I appreciate it. Am I going to see you this weekend for training?” he asks, sounding hopeful. 

Sam emerges from the bathroom and Bucky figures the conversation must be winding down. “I’ll be there,” he agrees, “Somebody’s gotta keep you humble,” he teases, dark eyes sparkling as Steve laughs. 

“Alright well, give Bucky a hug from me?” Steve asks softly, “Tell him…” he flounders for a moment before sighing, “Tell him I love him.” 

Sam’s smile turns soft and almost fond, “I will. Later man.”

“Bye Sam.”

Sam retakes his seat across from Bucky and sets the phone down gently, lips curled up at the edges, “All good,” he confirms, and Bucky nods like he hadn’t been listening in on the whole thing. Sam studies him for a minute and then nods, “I’m hungry, you mind if I heat up some of that soup?” he asks, already rising and going to the fridge. 

Bucky grunts his approval, knowing that this is just Sam’s way of getting him to eat without having to force the issue. He finds that he doesn’t mind so much with Sam like he would with Steve—he loves Steve, but he can’t always handle his pushy nature. 

He stares off into space, listening to the rain drizzle outside his window, the tension in his shoulders and neck sending a headache creeping up into his skull. He startles a little when Sam sets a bowl full of soup and a couple slices of bread in front of him, but then the scent hits him and he falls on it like a starved wolf. 

He eats until it’s gone and then sits upright, rolling his left shoulder and grimacing at how tight it is. Sam doesn’t miss the action, sipping his water for a moment before he speaks. “You could come to the VA after hours, I’ve got a friend in prosthetics that could take a look for you,” he offers. 

The instinct to reject the help is swift and harsh, but he forces himself to take a minute to ponder it, really think if it’s an offer he should refuse. Eventually he shakes his head, “I don’t think so Sam, I’m...I’m not ready to let anyone near it that I don’t know,” he murmurs, toying with his spoon. 

It scrapes along the side of the empty bowl with an awful screeching noise and he lets it go, sighing heavily as he scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m not always in control and I don’t wanna hurt someone who’s trying to help me,” he says softly, voice rough with emotion. He thinks of Tony’s eager suggestion that _he_ help and his gut turns, thinking of all the ways that could go _so_ very wrong. 

“Makes sense,” Sam agrees with a soft nod, smiling at him warmly from across the table. “Is there anything I can do to help in the meantime?” he asks softly. 

Bucky hesitates for a moment and then nods, “Can you stay?” he asks softly, “Just for awhile.” He doesn’t like asking it, but he also knows if Sam leaves he might slip back into that awful place between memory and reality and he’s scared if he does he won’t ever come back. 

Sam smiles faintly and nods, “Yea man, we can have a slumber party,” he jokes gently, “I’ll braid your hair and you can tell me all about your crush on Tony.” 

Bucky laughs, despite the heavy emotions in his chest and the headache pounding behind his eyes, overwhelmingly grateful for Sam’s presence in his life. “Shut up you dick,” he says with an eye roll and a tired grin, “Or I’ll tell Steve about your collection of Captain America comics.”

Sam gasps dramatically, “You _bastard,”_ he says before breaking down into more laughter. He rises to his feet and waves, “C’mon, go take a shower and I’ll find a movie to watch,” he says with a soft smile. 

Bucky rises and winces; a shower sounds amazing to his sore and aching body. He nods his thanks and grabs Sam’s bicep on his way past, squeezing for a moment before letting go—a silent proffer of thanks that Sam nods at without a word necessary. 

He’s damn lucky to have Sam Wilson in his life. 

* * *

Babydoll  
  
**Thursday** 11:02 AM   
So hey, had a thought   
You didn’t sprain anything did you?   
😱 I can’t believe you’d be so mean to me, what did grandpa forget to take his Metamucil today???   
lol 😂 so what was your thought about darlin?   
Well I WAS going to say you should use the car service to get to and from the cabin   
But now I’m thinking that a cab is just fine for you   
lol a cab IS fine darlin, it’ll get me there just the same as a car service   
🤨   
😋   
But that’ll cost SO much   
Much easier to just use the service   
Then I’ll know you made it home safe   
You’re a real sweetheart baby   
You want to take care of me a little, huh?   
Mayyyyyyybe   
😆 well I’d hate to refuse my sweetheart something so sweet and kind   
Thank you doll 💋   
You’re welcome sir   
Oh! JARVIS is going to call you so you can go over if you need anything at the cabin for the scene that we don’t already have   
Sounds good darlin 😁   
Gotta go sweetheart, time to talk pay raise with the boss man   
Give him what for!   
😂 I’ll do my best   
ttyl 💋   


* * *

JARVIS does in fact call him that evening, while he’s still at the shop, catching up on work he’d missed while he was out “sick”. 

“Good evening Mr. Barnes,” JARVIS greets him, his voice emotive and warm in just the same ways that a human would be and Bucky is once again awed by what Tony’s created. 

“Evening JARVIS, you can just call me Bucky, remember?” he asks lightly, smiling when the AI makes a hmming sound just like Tony does when he’s in disagreement and doesn’t want to say anything. 

“Of course sir, my apologies. Mr. Stark asked me to speak with you about what items you might need for the cabin?” 

Bucky nods and grimaces as he works a tight bolt loose. “Sure. Uh, I can’t really, hmm,” he murmurs, pausing in his work to really ponder the question. He thinks back to their times at the hotel and then nods slowly, “I think we’ll need a carafe for hot water and an ice bucket. I assume there are bowls and washcloths there I can use?” he asks. 

“Of course sir, I’ll have those items delivered to the house,” JARVIS confirms. 

“Good, thank you,” Bucky replies, hesitating for a moment before asking, “Do you think Tony would mind too much if I cooked?” 

“I do not; Sir has expressed how much he enjoys a good home cooked meal, even if he’s not the one to make it.” 

Bucky nods and smiles softly, “Right, well then, would you mind if I gave you a grocery list too?” 

“Fire away Bucky.”

Bucky grins at the way his name sounds in that proper British accent and shakes his head before diving into what he’ll need to make a nice meal for he and Tony to share post scene. 

When he hangs up, he’s got a smile on his face and his heart feels lighter than it was just hours ago. He’s always eager to see Tony, but this week he feels...almost _desperate_ to have his baby back in his arms. The withdrawal coupled with his flashback has exhausted him down to his bones, and all he really wants is to curl up with Tony and have a good nap. 

Still, today had been more good than bad: he’d talked to Mr. Blake about charging more for his high end work and had been surprised when the man had laughed and told him _it’s about time you start charging what you’re worth son._

He leaves the garage and goes home even though he has more work to do because he figures that Sam’s right—he should celebrate the good things in his life when he can. 

So he celebrates the little win by getting high and sitting on his fire escape with a bottle of whiskey, inured to the chaos of the city by the pleasant haze of weed and whiskey. There’s a heat wave coming and he can feel the humidity and pressure changing, the ache in his shoulder lessening along with it. 

Next week will be warm and dry and absolutely perfect for the scene he has planned out in his head. 

He’s not sure how exactly he’ll present the idea to Tony because he wants most of it to be a surprise, but he has some ideas about how to make it work. 

And if nothing else, he’ll ask Tony what he wants to do and make sure that he takes him apart slowly and leaves him weak and sated. 

Grinning, he takes another sip of whiskey and stares up at the sky, wishing he could see the stars. 

He’d like to show them to Tony someday, tell him how they make Bucky think of Tony’s eyes, sparkling and luminous. He’d like to tell Tony how he takes his breath away, just like the stars in the heavens above them. 

* * *

Bucky gets to the cabin an hour and a half early, and uses some of the time to set up the table they’ll need to use for the wax play. He lays out the plastic sheeting beneath the table and sets up a stand where he’ll have his aftercare products, making sure it’s all close at hand for when he needs it. 

When that’s finished he heads back down to the kitchen and starts pulling ingredients out of the fridge to make supper for he and Tony. He’d checked with JARVIS on the ingredients and decided to make roast salmon with a miso honey garlic glaze, lemon and tahini rice, and roasted broccoli and carrots with a sweet and spicy seasoning. 

He’s got a bottle of nice white wine chilling in the fridge and a glass for himself to enjoy while he cooks and he can’t help but sing along to his favorite playlist as he prepares the food. He’s halfway done with cutting up the carrots and broccoli when he hears the sound of tires on gravel. 

_Tony_

Wiping his hands on his jeans, he takes a sip of his wine and has JARVIS lower the music a bit before Tony comes in and when he does, Bucky can’t help the grin that spreads across his face at the pure shock on Tony’s face. 

“Hey baby,” he calls in greeting, smiling as he sets aside his knife and beckons Tony over. The other man comes willingly, if a little slowly, and it gives Bucky time to notice he’s not as dressed down as he normally is. This time he’s in dark fitted jeans, platform sneakers, a screen print shirt and a blazer. 

“You have to work outside the shop today?” he asks as Tony comes around the island to peer at what he’s doing, brows furrowed in apparent confusion. 

Tony nods and pokes a finger toward where the fish is marinating, “What is _that?”_ he demands and Bucky’s stomach drops—is he already fucking this up? 

“I, it’s salmon? JARVIS said it’s one of your favorites?” he replies warily, shoulders hunching in a little under Tony’s gaze, “I’m sorry, I should have checked with you, I can, we can get something else, it’s fine,” he mutters, hating the way his throat feels thick at the rejection. 

“What? No, Bucky, I meant, what is all _this?”_ Tony explains, reaching out to snag his wrist in a gentle grip. When Bucky looks up Tony is looking at him oddly, “Why are you cooking?” he asks, sounding confused. 

Bucky takes a shaky breath and shrugs, “We always ate after and I like cooking and taking care of you, but if you don’t want me to, we can just order pizza or something, it’s fine,” he hurries to assure Tony. 

Tony stares at him for a long minute before his lips curl into a shy smile, “You want to cook for me?” he asks softly, edging closer to Bucky slowly. Bucky nods cautiously and chances reaching out to lay a hand on Tony’s trim waist, fingers flexing gently. Tony beams at him and surges forward, taking Bucky by surprise with a firm kiss to his cheek. 

He’s grinning broadly when Tony pulls back and feels less like he’s somehow fucked things up, so he slides his arms around Tony’s waist and reels him in again, smirking softly when Tony’s breathing stutters faintly. “Why don’t you give me a kiss darlin and then tell me how your day was?” he encourages, already leaning in for a kiss before he’s finished speaking. 

Tony meets him eagerly, hands sliding up Bucky’s chest to push into his hair, fingers twining into the bun and tugging at it till it’s hanging loose around his face. Tony makes a happy noise and runs his fingers through it as they kiss, and Bucky can’t help but smile at how tactile and sweet Tony is around him. 

He takes the opportunity to push Tony against the counter, greedy for the low moan it elicits from Tony, the scent of his arousal teasing at Bucky’s nose. Tony smells like fancy cologne—notes of amber and vetiver against the faint tang of metal and grease from his workshop and underneath all of that is the pure scent of his skin. Warm and slightly salty, he can scent the stress Tony’s been under on his skin, but the heady musk of arousal is growing to cover it with every minute that Bucky remains pinned up against him. 

Sliding his hands down Tony’s back slowly, he savors the way it makes Tony arch into him, a low moan in his throat as he tugs at Bucky’s hair. The sharp sensation alongside the silky sweet kisses makes his gut burn with desire, and he nips playfully at Tony’s bottom lip before lifting Tony as easily as he would a kitten and placing him on the countertop. 

Tony gasps and clings to him, eyes dark and hungry when Bucky pulls back to smirk at him playfully. He nips at Tony’s chin and then his jaw, grinning at the way it makes Tony gasp and tilt his head back to give him more room to work with. Still, he keeps his nips light, remembering the way Tony had asked for no marks there the last time he’d had his mouth against the tender skin of his throat. 

He lets his lips wander, pleasure and satisfaction winding through him when Tony’s hands remain in his hair, not guiding, just hanging on as Bucky kisses and licks and nips all over his throat. Tony’s breathing fast, tiny whines in the back of his throat that Bucky can feel against his lips as vibrations. 

Tony smells warm, welcoming, like how the kitchen would smell when his ma was baking. He buries his face into the crook of Tony’s neck and inhales deeply, groaning at how rich and thick the scent is here before he licks at it, swallowing down the taste of Tony. It reminds him that he’s yet to get his mouth on Tony and how much he wants to do that. 

Tony shifts against him and whines and this time when Bucky inhales the scent of arousal is much stronger. He pulls away regretfully—he’d love to take Tony right here on the countertop, but that’s _not_ the plan for tonight. He kisses Tony’s cheek and nuzzles against him sweetly, sighing happily at the way Tony clings to him and makes soft sounds of pleasure. 

“Tell me about your day,” he murmurs, dropping another kiss on Tony’s cheek before pulling away and picking his knife back up. Tony wouldn’t be able to detect the fine tremor in his fingers from the rush of arousal in his blood, but Bucky can feel it. He exhales slowly and glances up to see Tony’s still got his eyes closed, breathing slowly like he’s struggling to get himself under control. 

When Bucky looks down he smirks at the bulge in Tony’s jeans, tempted to do something about it, but instead he resumes cutting up the broccoli and carrots, tapping Tony’s knee after another few moments of silence. 

“I uh, had a bunch of meetings today with R&D about that tech I told you about? The virtual reality?” Tony says questioningly, waiting for Bucky’s nod before he continues. “We’re moving ahead with it and there have been some uh, _issues_ with the man who designed it. He’s not pleased with the direction I want to take it in and it’s looking like I’m going to have to let him go.”

Bucky frowns softly, “Is he going to be a problem?” he asks as he drops handfuls of vegetables into the waiting bowl of marinade. He brushes the mess into a neat pile and carries it to the trash, glancing over his shoulder as Tony replies. 

“He’ll be HR’s problem, not mine. Pepper isn’t pleased, but then, I don’t think she’s ever happy with the way I handle things,” Tony says with a shrug. “There’s not a lot I can do about it. His ideas all focus on weaponizing it and we don’t do that at SI, not anymore.”

Bucky nods and grabs the filet of salmon he’d had marinating in a ziploc bag, “Long day then,” he murmurs, lifting the filet out to arrange it on the baking tray. Tony nods and sighs and Bucky nudges the wine glass toward him with a grin, “Sounds like you need it more than I do,” he murmurs. 

Tony stares at the wine for a moment and then takes a tiny sip, humming at the taste. Bucky leans up and kisses him swiftly, tongue dragging over Tony’s bottom lip languidly to chase the taste of the wine. “Mmm, tastes so good on your lips,” he croons, smirking when Tony makes a soft sound and chases his lips shamelessly.

He lets Tony kiss him, enjoying the way the other man uses the height difference to pull him closer and hold him still with the grip he’s got on Bucky’s hair. Eventually he backs away again and moves to prepare the sauce for the rice, eagerly inhaling the scent of lemons. 

He hums along to the music as Tony watches him cook and sips on the wine, eyes curious. “Where did you learn to cook?” he asks curiously, “The army?” 

Bucky nods, “A bit there, mostly from my ma. She always told me it wasn’t enough for me to be a pretty face or a dom, I needed to be a good man who could take care of himself and the ones I loved.” He smiles sadly, bittersweet heartache making his chest tight. 

“She sounds like an amazing woman,” Tony murmurs softly, “She taught you how to make Asian salmon?” he asks teasingly, voice light, and it’s clearly an invitation to turn away from painful topics and Bucky takes it gratefully. 

“Nah, that was Sam. I lived with him for a while until I got my feet under me and he taught me how to make a lot of different things.” He loads the tray of salmon and the other of veggies into the oven and then washes his hands off, smiling over his shoulder at Tony. “Now, c’mere doll,” he orders softly, holding out a hand and wiggling his fingers. 

Tony hops off the counter and steps over to him, taking the hand lightly and then gasping when Bucky tugs him firmly against his chest. When he wraps an arm around Tony’s waist and starts slow dancing around the kitchen Tony laughs and slings his arm around Bucky’s broad shoulders, gazing back into Bucky’s eyes warmly. 

“Pretty smooth on your feet there soldier, where’d you learn this? Also from Sam?” Tony teases softly, fingers curling through the soft hair at the nape of his neck as they sway and step. 

“Ma taught me and my sister Becca made me practice so I wouldn’t step all over the girls’ feet when I went dancin,” he explains and then dips and twirls Tony, grinning when the other man follows his lead with the grace of a ballerina. “How about you?” he asks. 

Tony smirks, “I have lots of useless rich boy skills, including sailing, ballroom dancing, looking pretty for the cameras and knowing which fork is best for stabbing wandering hands during the soup course.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head, leaning in to kiss Tony gently as they slow to a gentle sway. “I dunno, that last one sounds pretty useful, you’ll have to teach me that sometime,” he teases, heart lurching at the way it makes Tony laugh. 

He’s so fucking beautiful like this—relaxed and at ease in his own skin, a smile on his lips and soft lines beside his eyes feathering gently. Bucky wants to kiss each and every line and dimple, every scar and freckle that’s on his body and suddenly, he’s very much _done_ with dancing. 

Maybe Tony can sense the shift in him because he suddenly leans into Bucky a little more and his pupils go wide and Bucky kinda can’t help it if he lets his hand skate down to grab Tony’s ass. “Hey JARVIS, when I tell you, put the lower oven on 450 and the upper on 425, forty minutes for them both.” 

“Very good sir.”

Bucky squeezes Tony’s ass and smirks, “C’mon darlin I got some things I want your opinion on upstairs,” he encourages, stepping back to put space between their bodies, but not releasing Tony’s hand as he heads toward the stairs. He’s glad Tony got here early too; now they have time to go over his plan for tonight and make any changes they deem necessary. 

He shoulders the playroom door open and looks around in satisfaction—with the lights dimmed down low and the candles going, it’ll be warm and cozy feeling in here soon. He’d brought his own collection of rope and toys and had JARVIS order a few other things that are in boxes down the hall in Pepper’s old office. 

He leads Tony to the pegboard and toy storage area and opens one of the drawers, hesitating for just a moment before pulling out the cuffs that Tony had rejected before and a set of silk bindings. Tony’s body goes stiff at the sight of the cuffs and that’s really all he needs to know, but he asks anyway because he thinks Tony deserves the chance to tell him _no_. 

“Which would you like for me to use to tie you up with?” he asks softly, “The only right answer here is the one where you’re truthful,” he reminds Tony, holding his gaze firmly till he nods weakly. 

Tony’s lips press into a thin line and he swallows hard for a moment, gaze fixed on the cuffs before he shakes his head and looks away, “Not the cuffs,” he murmurs, “My...ex, he- he liked it when I would thrash in them, and he’d...he’d leave me in them for a really long time and it, the marks were just- really hard to hide,” Tony tells him haltingly, voice raspy and emotional. 

Bucky carefully turns and places them back in the drawer, hesitating over whether he should just throw them out, but ultimately he’d like for that decision to be Tony’s. His form had indicated he’d be okay with cuffs so maybe it’s just that he needs some time to work up to them. And that’s something Bucky can work with—he wants Tony’s enthusiastic consent, not wary and halfhearted bullshit consent. 

He turns back to Tony and reaches very carefully for his hands, smiling softly when Tony allows him to take them. Gently he pushes back Tony’s cuffs and leans in to brush his lips against the soft skin of first one wrist and then the other. He feels the spike in Tony’s pulse under his lips and looks up at Tony from where he’s still bent over his wrist. 

“I would _never_ hurt you like that,” Bucky promises, rising up to stand straight, one of Tony’s hands still in his, the other going to cup Tony’s cheek gently. 

Tony leans into it and smiles weakly, “I’m starting to get that,” he murmurs softly, eyes bright and wet looking and Bucky can’t help but lean in and kiss his cheek softly and then his lips even more gently. Tony hums and leans into him, breaking away after a moment to snuggle into his chest and it makes Bucky’s throat go thick with emotion. 

He rubs the back of Tony’s head gently, fingers furrowing through his hair as Tony clings to him, massaging his scalp till he feels the tension leave Tony’s body. “You ok?” he asks softly, smiling when Tony nods and shifts against him, hugging him tighter for a moment before he pulls back enough to smile up at Bucky softly. 

“I’m good,” he assures Bucky, “Promise.” 

Bucky studies his face and his posture, all his training searching for a lie, relief flooding him when he finds none. He nods and steps back, “Good, I want you to wait there,” he instructs, waiting for Tony’s nod before he goes and shuts the door, turns down the lights, and starts lighting the candles he’d placed around the room earlier. 

When he makes his way back to Tony he snags a finger into Tony’s belt loop and tugs him forward, smirking at the way Tony’s eyes go wide and his hands automatically fall against Bucky’s broad chest. There’s barely any space between them so Bucky can feel it when Tony shivers in delight at the manhandling. 

He leans in slowly, eyes open to watch as Tony sways to meet him, big brown eyes closing, his long lashes fluttering as Bucky’s breath washes over Tony’s mouth. He kisses him like that, eyes wide open to see the way Tony melts, and then slowly starts pushing Tony’s blazer off his shoulders. 

He breaks away from Tony’s mouth and works his lips across Tony’s jaw as the blazer falls to the ground. His fingers skate down Tony’s back, around his hips and then under the hem of his shirt, pushing it up slowly as his kisses trail down Tony’s throat. 

His metal fingers dance over Tony’s skin, pausing to pluck at Tony’s nipple as he bites gently at Tony’s throat and the shuddering little moan Tony lets out is just _stunning_. He pulls away to lift the shirt off and then he falls back on Tony’s beautiful body, lips worshiping and hands caressing. 

Tony gasps as Bucky backs him up against the table, going easily back onto his elbows as Bucky bends over him, lips closing on one of his nipples. His flesh hand pins Tony down at his hip while the metal one toys with the other nipple, the moans falling from Tony’s lips like music. He nips and sucks at the nipple till Tony’s chest is arching up, a loud moan filling the air, and then he releases it. 

Tony keens softly as Bucky switches sides, lips closing over the other nipple as his fingers toy with the one he’d left slick and pink from his mouth. “You got the prettiest tits baby,” he croons, “I can’t wait to play with these more,” he murmurs, nipping a little harder to get Tony to make that whimpery little gasping noise Bucky loves so much. 

He slowly makes his way down Tony’s belly, enjoying the feel of his muscles flexing under Bucky’s mouth, and when he looks up Tony is sitting up a little, watching him with a dazed look. He nips at Tony’s hipbone as his fingers undo the button of Tony’s jeans and then tugs them down just enough that the bulge in Tony’s briefs is visible.

Smirking, he covers it with his hand and squeezes, “This for me?” he asks over Tony’s moan, humming in pleasure when Tony gasps out _yes sir_ and bucks his hips into the touch. He gives him another squeeze and then lets his hand fall away, smirking sharply at the way it makes Tony whine in protest. 

Gripping Tony’s hips tight enough he knows he won’t be able to move, he leans in and mouths at the warm bulge beneath the fabric, nuzzling at Tony’s cock and inhaling the heady scent of his arousal. He keeps at it, sucking at the head through the fabric till it’s soaked with spit and precum, the scent of it making his head go light and his blood rush hotly through his veins. 

Tony moans beautifully above him, tiny hitching gasps falling from his lips whenever he tries to move his hips to get more and he’s stopped by Bucky’s iron grip. Eventually he pulls away and works Tony’s shoes off, then his socks, and finally, _finally_ , his jeans and his briefs. 

Tony’s thighs quiver above him and Bucky can’t help but lean in and kiss the crook of his hip, inhaling the scent of his skin greedily. “Fuck baby, smell so _good,”_ he groans, palming Tony’s ass as he smears wet sloppy kisses across Tony’s pelvis. He can hear Tony’s heart racing and his breath coming in harsh pants, feel the desperation in the way he’s trembling like a leaf. 

He glances up at Tony and smirks, “Tell me when you’re close,” he orders and then takes Tony’s cock into his mouth and swallows him down. His gag reflex is long gone so he sinks down deep and buries his nose in the smooth soft skin at the base of his cock. Tony shouts and bucks his hips, moaning Bucky’s name loudly, and this time Bucky doesn’t stop him. 

He palms Tony’s ass, gripping it tight and then starts bobbing his head, keeping his lips tight and the suction strong. He’d been good at this long before Hydra got their hands on him, perfecting his skills with Jerome and making sure that he knew every way to wring pleasure from his partners. 

Now he puts it to good use as he pulls almost all the way off Tony’s cock till just the head is in his mouth and starts tonguing at the slit, feral pride shooting through him when Tony cries out, knees going weak and shaky. He firms his grip on Tony’s ass and sucks harder, tongue working at the slit till Tony’s shaking and gasping loudly and then opens wider and slides back down. 

“S-sir, I-I, I’m gonna, ah! I—”

Tony’s cock twitches in his mouth and fresh salty precum floods his tongue before he pulls off and grips the base of Tony’s cock hard enough to make him shout and nearly collapse as his orgasm is brutally cut off. Bucky moves swiftly to sweep Tony up into his arms, pressing kisses all over his face as he croons praise. 

“Good job baby, you did so good,” he murmurs, gently laying Tony’s trembling body out on the table. He nuzzles into the damp strands of hair at his temple and kisses him there. “You got the prettiest cock baby, thank you for letting me have a taste, I’ve been dreaming about that for weeks.”

Tony’s eyes finally open and he lifts a shaky hand to twine into Bucky’s hair, tugging gently, “Kiss,” he demands, “Please sir?” His eyes are dark and pleading and Bucky won’t ever say no to a look like that, so he complies and kisses Tony till he’s breathless. When Tony opens his eyes again after Bucky’s pulled away, he smiles, gaze already fuzzy and soft. 

Bucky pets his hair, smiling fondly. “I’m gonna tie you up baby and then we’re gonna get started, okay?” 

Tony nods and closes his eyes, arms going above his head to rest in a position that’s comfortable and perfect for Bucky to tie him in—all without being asked. Pride surges in his chest and Bucky leans in to kiss him again, harder this time. “So fuckin perfect for me baby,” he growls, nipping at Tony’s lip before he pulls away and pulls the silk bindings from his pocket. 

He works quickly and efficiently till Tony’s securely tied down, checking as he goes that nothing is too tight or uncomfortable. “Remember, you can and _should_ tell me if anything hurts or feels like it’s going numb,” he instructs as he picks up the red candle that’s been burning for a few minutes now. 

The others in the room are unscented as well, but are only for decoration and not play. The room is lit low, the light from the candles flickering against the red walls turning the whole room into a heated den of seduction and sex. 

He sets the candle by Tony’s hip and smiles softly down at him as he pulls his hair back into a bun, amused by the way Tony’s gaze follows the action intently. “You feeling good baby?” he asks, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up slowly, smiling when Tony nods and shifts on the table, his cock still hard and pink and lovely. 

“Good, that’s good,” he murmurs, rounding the table to check on the carafe of hot water and ice bucket he’d set up before Tony had gotten here. He’s already prepped the cloths with essential oils so all he needs to do when they’re done is measure out the right mixture of hot water and ice so the cloths are just the right temperature for cleaning Tony off. 

He picks up one of the large bandages he’d set aside and shows it to Tony, amused by the confusion on his face. “Figured we could use this to cover the reactor so wax doesn’t get on it,” he explains, waiting for Tony’s nod of comprehension before bending over his chest and carefully aligning it over the glowing circle. 

Bucky tapes down the edges with bandage tape and then adds another bandage on top of that before securing it as well. He’d rather be overcautious about it than allow Tony to get hurt through some fault of his own. When he’s done he grabs the unscented massage oil JARVIS had ordered for him and pours some out into his flesh palm, smiling when he sees Tony is watching him. 

“I’m gonna get your skin nice and slick so when I start pouring wax on you it’s easier to get off,” he explains, smiling fondly when Tony hums in agreement and closes his eyes, seemingly content. He’s pretty sure Tony isn’t down yet, but he does seem to be enjoying himself and that’s really all Bucky can ask for at the end of the day. 

He starts by rubbing the oil into Tony’s left foot, massaging the arch and pressing his thumbs into the pad till Tony whines and shudders, body twitching against the restraints before settling. He works slowly up from there, massaging the oil into Tony’s calf till he reaches his knee and then gets more oil. 

Tony groans when Bucky’s thumbs press into the muscles in his thigh, skin going white under the pressure of his hands and then pinking up beautifully when they slide away. Tony’s cock is heavy and rosy, wetness at the tip glistening in the warm light of the candles and Bucky allows himself the satisfaction of closing his slick hand around it to stroke it a few times. 

Tony gasps and bucks his hips up into the touch, a pretty flush on his cheeks as he bites his lip and moans sweetly. When Bucky lets his cock go, Tony groans at the loss, hips bucking into the air to chase his hand—with no luck. Bucky chuckles and pets his hip, “Hang in there baby, we’ve got a long way to go,” he murmurs, smirking when Tony shoots him a look that’s half pleading half annoyed. 

_“Mean,”_ Tony accuses breathlessly before letting his head drop back down with a soft _thump._

Bucky snorts and pinches his hip in retaliation, grinning at the way it makes Tony gasp and then let out an affronted sound. It gets his attention though—he lifts his head to meet Bucky’s gaze and then swallows hard at the wolffish smile on Bucky’s face. 

“Darlin, you haven’t even _seen_ me be mean yet,” he murmurs, amused at how it makes Tony’s eyes go dark and hungry. “Oh,” he drawls knowingly, “Maybe you _want_ me to be a little mean?” he guesses, smirking when Tony’s cock twitches in response. 

He slicks up his hands and starts on Tony’s other foot, “Maybe you want me to tie you up and watch you struggle while you have a vibrating plug inside that pretty hole?” he suggests, grin feral when Tony gasps and his hips buck up into the air. 

“Yea, you like that,” he murmurs, aroused and amused by Tony’s reaction to his idea. 

“Yes sir,” Tony gasps softly and Bucky rewards him with a nip of his teeth to the skin of his knee, smirking at the way it makes Tony shudder. He’s slipping toward subspace now, Bucky can tell, so he slips his fingers from where they’d been massaging oil into Tony’s thigh and lets them skate up to grasp his cock again, metal fingers closing around his balls and squeezing gently. 

He massages the soft flesh of Tony’s balls, hungry for the way Tony makes soft breathy sounds, head rolling back as he arches and tries to get more contact, whining when he fails. The air is warm around them and sweat is just starting to glisten on Tony’s chest, turning the planes of his stomach golden like some bronzed statue of old. Bucky strokes his cock a few more times before releasing him and moving up to start massaging oil into his stomach and chest. 

Tony whines and moans softly, hips shifting restlessly, eyelids heavy as he pants for breath, a smile faint on his lips, shining and pink from being bitten. Bucky adds a little more oil to his hands and massages it into Tony’s chest, toying with his nipples--light pinches and tugs that make Tony gasp sweetly and arch into the touch. 

He’s loath to stop teasing Tony and playing with his body, but he thinks by now Tony’s in a good headspace to get started with the wax. Circling around the table, he picks up the candle he had lit from where he’d left it by Tony’s hip and then rubs Tony’s thigh to get his attention. 

“Sweetheart, look at me,” he murmurs, smiling when Tony opens his eyes and turns his head to meet Bucky’s gaze. “There you are gorgeous,” he croons, enjoying the way Tony’s blush deepens and he squirms into the table.

“We’re going to start now, but if you don’t like it, I want you to tell me right away, okay?” he says firmly. “I don’t want you trying to power through something because you think you have to or because you think it’s what I want.” 

“Yes sir,” Tony whispers with a nod, “I promise to be honest,” he assures Bucky earnestly, eyes wide and serious. 

Bucky smiles softly and leans in for a kiss, “Good boy,” he murmurs against Tony’s lips, nudging their noses together sweetly before dropping one last kiss to Tony’s lips and pulling away. 

Standing upright, he studies Tony’s body for a minute before deciding to start with a few droplets across his belly—it's sensitive but not nearly as much as his nipples or his inner thigh would be, so it’s a good place to truly test this out. 

“Here we go baby,” he murmurs softly, smiling when Tony makes an eager noise and arches his hips beckoningly. He lifts the candle till it’s roughly eighteen inches from Tony’s belly and then tilts it enough to let three droplets fall in quick succession onto Tony’s toned stomach. 

Tony cries out softly, eyes going wide at the sensation and he thrashes in the restraints for a moment before melting back down to the table with a drawn out moan. His cock twitches and strains toward his belly and Bucky feels a thrill of delight when Tony moans wantonly, _more._ His hand is perfectly steady as he drips more wax across Tony’s belly, heat and desire flooding his body as Tony writhes and moans, skin rippling as he twitches and shifts. 

The red wax is lurid against Tony’s golden skin and Bucky lets out a trembling breath at how beautiful he looks like this. “Damn baby, you look like a dream,” he murmurs, tipping the candle again to let more wax drip down, this time across Tony’s hip so it puddles on his pelvis. Tony groans and his cock throbs, pre cum glistening at the tip for a moment before it drips slowly down to pool on his belly. 

“Please, please sir,” Tony gasps, hips twisting, seeking friction, sensation, _something_ to relieve the desperation Bucky sees on his face. He begs so _prettily_ , lips parted as he pants and whines, eyes glassy with arousal and subspace, cock twitching and leaking. Bucky hums in pleasure at the sight and smiles softly when Tony gives him a pleading look, whining his name in a breathy voice that makes his gut clench with desire. 

He doesn’t leave Tony waiting though, spilling a few more drops over Tony’s abdomen and then a few more up the line of his torso to the very edge of the bandage protecting the arc reactor. Tony moans and writhes, nipples hard and dusky pink, a flush on his chest as he breathes heavily, sweat beading at his temples. Bucky gives him a moment of rest before pouring out more wax across his torso in precise lines, one after the other, head swimming in dom space as Tony gasps and moans, shivering with each new line of wax that Bucky pours out. 

“God baby, so pretty,” he croons, reaching out to pluck at Tony’s nipple with his metal fingers, knowing that the temperature difference will heighten the sensations filling Tony’s body. It has the desired effect—Tony whines and arches his chest into the touch, seeking more, and Bucky gives it to him. Plucking and rolling the nipple between his fingers, he plays with it, watching as Tony’s cock leaks onto his stomach and the muscles of his abdomen ripple, the wax rolling with the waves of his muscles, his body a beautiful canvas for Bucky to paint upon. 

Now there’s an idea....

He ponders it as he switches to the other nipple, heat and pressure building in his blood as Tony keens, gasping Bucky’s name over and over again between pleas for more. When he’s sure Tony is nice and sensitized he pulls his hand back and replaces it with hot wax, letting it drip over first one and then the other nipple. Tony’s eyes burst open, a shrill cry falling from his lips, cock twitching and spurting out a stream of pre cum, his cry choking off as he struggles and writhes, gasping Bucky’s name weakly. 

“Color baby,” Bucky murmurs, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Tony’s thigh. He’s almost positive it’s green, but he knows that sudden burst of sensation could be too much. Tony shivers for nearly a minute, cock pulsing and throbbing, red and angry and leaking. “You close?” he murmurs, fingertips skating along the inside of Tony’s thigh, a sharp smirk on his lips when Tony moans and nods weakly, still shivering. “Can you give me a color?” he asks quietly, thumb rubbing gently against Tony’s hip. 

Tony licks his lips, panting for a few moments before he opens his eyes and smiles dizzily, “Green sir, so so green,” he whispers, biting his lip hard for a moment, eyes hooding heavily as he peers at Bucky and heat pulses in his gut at the wanton look he’s on the receiving end of. “Feels... _amazing_ ,” Tony tells him before rolling his hips up into Bucky’s soft caresses, “Please...more?” he asks softly, voice throaty and hoarse already. 

Bucky swallows hard and curses softly before leaning down and kissing him, groaning when Tony licks his lip and then nips at it, clearly feeling playful. A growl rises in his throat and he fists Tony’s hair in his metal hand, tilting his head back and holding it firm as he devours his mouth, Tony’s pleased moan like honey on his lips. He kisses Tony bruisingly hard, lips burning and swollen as he kisses and kisses and kisses Tony till even his own lungs are aching. 

Tony keens softly when Bucky finally pulls away, eyes closed, a beatific look on his face. His lips are cherry red and swollen, slick and enticing and Bucky can’t help it when he lets his hair go and uses his metal fingers to trace them, groaning when Tony closes his lips around them and sucks. “Fuck baby, you look so good like this,” he murmurs, “So pretty suckin on my fingers like that.” Tony hums in pleasure and sucks harder, tongue working, eyes half open as he peers at Bucky through subspace heavy lids. Bucky groans when Tony flickers his tongue against the pads of his fingers, once again sorrowful that the sensors in them don’t accurately feel heat and touch. 

Still, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t or can’t enjoy this—he slides a third finger into Tony’s mouth and pushes them deeper, flying high on dom space as Tony drools around them, moaning wantonly, like he’d die without Bucky’s fingers in his mouth. Desire pulses in his gut and he pushes back just a little further, breath stuttering in his chest as Tony lets out a garbled moan around them, clearly pleased to be used like this. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groans, slowly pulling them out, entranced by the way Tony’s lips are slick and red, both of them groaning when Bucky wipes his fingers on Tony’s cheek--the act filthy and possessive and enough to have his cock throbbing in his jeans where it’s been hard for what feels like ages. Tony pants for breath and Bucky uses the moment to step back a little and pour more wax onto his nipples, watching as the tendons in Tony’s throat stand out when he throws back his head and lets out a full bodied shout. 

It slides and slips into a long moan as Bucky continues pouring out wax, letting droplets fall over his chest and stomach in a steady drizzle. “You look like a painting doll,” he rasps, hand steady as ever as he drizzles more wax onto Tony’s hip and then shifts to let some fall onto the inside of his thigh. Tony sobs at the sensation, cock throbbing as he shudders and moans, turning his head to pant into his own bicep, eyes furrowed shut at the onslaught of sensation. 

“You do baby, you look like heaven, like something that belongs in one of them fancy art galleries for everyone to marvel over,” Bucky tells him, barely aware of the words spilling past his lips as he breathes in the heady musk of Tony’s arousal. His pelvis glistens with the pre cum that his cock has spilled, and Bucky’s mouth waters with the desire to clean it up and suck Tony down his throat till he spills. 

His own cock is leaking in his jeans and his gut feels wound tight with desire, aching to be set free, to be given free reign. Red droplets of wax paint Tony’s thigh, muscles quivering as Bucky drips more down his leg, onto his calf and shin, skin rippling at the momentary starburst of heat and sensation before settling as it cools. Tony’s moans are constant as Bucky works—he’s unable to speak it seems and Bucky can’t seem to shut himself up. 

“Baby...baby...you look so good,” he murmurs, voice hoarse with want, throat tight with need. He captures Tony’s foot and rubs at the arch, fascinated by the way Tony groans at that sensation too, shuddering heavily when Bucky switches to his other leg and drips wax onto his calf. 

“Sound so pretty baby, moaning for me like that,” he says, voice tight with need as he trails more wax over Tony’s pliant body. He’s writhing weakly now, tiny rolling waves of his body as he moans and gasps, lost in the pleasure of the sensation, hips twitching faintly and cock leaking heavily. There’s a larger pool of pre cum on his belly now, shining and enticing, and Bucky can’t help but swipe a finger through it so he can have a taste. 

A shudder runs down his own spine at the sharp flavor, heat coiling in his gut and cock throbbing against the confines of his jeans, leaking and aching to be taken care of. More bright crimson droplets spill on Tony’s skin and for a moment it looks like blood, hot and wet and then he blinks and it’s just wax again. His breathing is unsteady, heavy with lust and he swallows hard, closing his eyes to steady himself. 

He’s never wanted someone like this, never felt this aching desire inside to not just fuck, but to pamper and soothe and adore. He’s had relatively few subs in his life, and he had fallen for Jerome, but this is something else entirely. He wants to show Tony how much he’s treasured, how absolutely _stunning_ Bucky thinks he is when he’s like this, writhing and moaning for Bucky so sweetly. 

Tony moans his name and his eyes fly open to find Tony looking at him, dazed and wanting and he surges forward to kiss him again, petting sweaty hair back from his brow as he kisses him softly, sweetly. “Fuck...Tony...you’re so perfect for me honey,” he whispers against Tony’s lips, nudging their noses together, heart lurching dangerously in his chest. 

Tony whines softly and nods weakly, “For you,” he agrees, words slurred and voice raw and hoarse from all his moaning, words wet against Bucky’s cheek where Tony’s lips are brushing. 

Turning his chin, he captures Tony’s mouth again and pours every ounce of adoration inside his chest into it. “Perfect baby, you’re perfect,” he whispers, “My sweet baby, you look like a dream.” Tony smiles, wide and happy and Bucky can’t help but kiss that smile, wishing he could capture it and keep it in a picture for him to look at whenever he wants. Maybe someday Tony will let him take a picture of him when he’s down and sweet like this. Someday. 

“You wanna come baby?” he asks, smirking when Tony nods eagerly, and keens softly, pleadingly. “Okay sweetheart, you just lay there and take it, my good boy, and you can come whenever you want.” Tony sighs in pleasure and rasps out a weak _thank you sir_ that has Bucky’s throat convulsing with adoration. 

He’s soaring in dom space, emotion crowding his chest. His senses are heightened and he can smell Tony’s sweat and pre cum, taste the flavor of his need in the air. The crimson of the walls reflects the flickering of the candles around the room so it looks like they’re in some lavish bordello. The wanton cries Tony’s been letting out wouldn’t be so out of place in one and Bucky smirks for a moment, thinking of how loud and free Tony’s been with his cries. 

When he steps away from Tony and takes his place beside his torso, it’s like everything settles inside him with a feeling of utter rightness, like this is where he’s meant to be, what he’s _always_ been meant for, and the sensation takes his breath away. His blood beats steadily through his veins and he sees with perfect clarity how the scene should go, hands steady as he moves into readiness. 

The first droplets fall on Tony’s belly, quick and hot. From there he moves to drip more on his nipples, knowing that with the layer of wax on them it’ll be warm and gentle on them, almost soothing. Tony groans softly, shifting in his bindings, arching into the sensation sweetly and Bucky soars on it, riding it like a bird surfs the skies. Bucky grips Tony’s thigh in one hand and pulls it wider so more sensitive skin is exposed and then lets more wax drip down, creating new lines on his golden skin. 

He does the same on the other thigh and then focuses his attention on the crease of Tony’s hip, hands sniper precise as he draws a line of wax down the crease, growling in satisfaction when Tony’s cock jolts at the heat in such near proximity, his balls drawn up tight and close to his body. Tony sobs and throws his head back, broken moans on his lips as Bucky pours out more wax, carefully, delicately. 

“Come for me,” he orders, voice low and firm, thrilling at the way Tony nods and sobs his name, breath hitching. “Say it again,” he orders, “My name, say it,” he commands, dripping dots of wax over closer to Tony’s balls without allowing any droplets to actually fall on the tender skin. 

“Bucky! Bucky Bucky Bucky,” Tony chants, shuddering as he comes, cock pulsing untouched, spilling out pearly white alongside the red on his skin. Bucky’s vision goes blurry as his cock throbs in his jeans and he barely feels himself blowing out the candle and setting it aside before his hand is at his jeans and he’s working his cock free. 

“Baby, Tony, can I—” he cups Tony’s cheek and turns his face toward him, voice tight as he fists his cock so Tony can see it. “Can I use your mouth baby?” he pleads, desperation singing in his veins. Tony nods and moans wantonly, mouth falling open wide and Bucky curses, shuffling forward further so he can bend over the table and feed his cock into Tony’s mouth. The slick heat is very nearly too much against the sensitive skin of his cock and he groans loudly, cupping the back of Tony’s head as he rolls his hips, a sob of breath ripping from his chest as Tony groans and his cock twitches, spilling a little more. 

“Fuck baby,” he pants, “M’ not gonna last,” he groans, fingers tightening in Tony’s hair as he rocks harder, faster. Tony moans, eyes falling shut, a blissed out look on his face as Bucky fucks into his mouth and he can’t stop the groan that rips from his chest at the sweet expression. “You like this huh?” he demands, “Like me using your pretty mouth to get off?” 

Tony lets out a garbled moan and nods weakly, eyes peeling half open to peer at him, shining with tears from the strain, drool slipping from the corners of his mouth and Bucky curses, hunching over as his gut clenches with the need to come. His cock throbs and he gasps out a weak sob, vision going blurry as he starts to come, white noise filling his skull as everything fades in the rush of pleasure that consumes him. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he grits out as his hips roll, Tony’s garbled moans vibrating up his cock and punching into his gut, a weak whine slipping past his own lips at how incredibly fucking _good_ it is. “Tony...fuck, _Tony,”_ he gasps, fingers spasming in Tony’s hair, holding him firmly in place as he comes down Tony’s throat. 

He pulls back when it starts to wane and jerks himself off, groaning as the last few strands fall on Tony’s face and across his open lips. Tony moans and licks at it weakly, eyes too heavy to keep open, chest heaving as he lays there, painted in wax and cum, a fucking _vision_. Bucky stares at him in awe, thinking for one wild moment how he looks like some pornographic version of the Iron Man armor and then that thought trips over into how good his cum would look on the armor itself and he gasps as another burst of cum pulses from his cock. 

When he finally lets himself go he’s shaking and unsteady on his feet. He leans against the table and breathes for a minute, slowly gathering himself back from the millions of pieces he’d shattered into when he came. His hands shake as he tucks his cock back in and rights himself, aware that Tony’s making soft sweet noises and that he needs to get into gear and get him cleaned up. 

The hot water and ice fill the bowl with the washcloths and essential oils and he murmurs a quick order to JARVIS to start the ovens and the stove for the rice, moving quickly to wring out the first cloth once it’s the right temperature. Tony’s eyes are closed but he smiles and leans into the touch when Bucky cleans his face, murmuring a word of warning first. “You did so good baby,” he croons, voice hoarse and thick with emotion. “Thank you for letting me use your mouth like that,” he murmurs, hoping that Tony can hear just how deeply he’s appreciative. 

Tony nods weakly and smiles, apparently too worn out to speak. Bucky moves quickly and precisely after that to untie him, carefully remove the bandages covering the reactor, and wipe him down. He takes his time to get all the wax from Tony’s body, hands gentle on what he knows is sensitive skin. It takes some time, but finally Tony’s skin is clean, and it’s pink all over from the heat of the wax but not burned or damaged. He rubs lotion into Tony’s skin and massages him again, smirking when he realizes Tony’s fallen asleep right there on the table. 

He leaves him there for just a moment so he can blow out the candles around the room and then lifts him into his arms, heart in his throat when Tony’s head lolls onto his shoulder, breathing slow and steady against the skin of his neck. Carrying him down the hall to the bedroom takes but a moment and he pauses at the doorway, looking around in interest at the new decor. There’s more color and the carpet is different too, but he doesn’t have time to study it because he needs to get them both to bed. 

He tucks Tony in first and then kicks off his shoes and peels off his jeans and socks before crawling into bed with Tony, eyes heavy and body warm with the glow of dom pride and orgasm. He curls up behind Tony and wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him closer and nuzzling into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, inhaling the scent of lotion, wax, sweat, cum and satisfaction on his skin. 

Smiling softly, he presses his lips to the nape of Tony’s neck and lets himself slip into the warm embrace of sleep. 

* * *

Bucky wakes slowly, smiling when he feels that Tony’s still pressed up against his chest, warm and pliant with sleep. He nuzzles his nose into Tony’s hair and inhales deeply, letting himself have the luxury of a few more deep breaths before he pulls away slowly. 

When Tony makes a soft sleepy sound he’s quick to press a kiss to his neck, “Shhh it’s okay baby I’m just going to check on dinner,” he murmurs, not sure if Tony’s awake enough to hear him. Tony makes another soft sound and wriggles around to face him, lips pulled down in an adorable pout. 

Grinning, Bucky leans in and kisses the pout, “I’m gonna come back baby, I promise,” he whispers, dropping soft kisses over Tony’s face till he breaks and starts smiling, leaning his face up—a silent demand for more kisses. “Aww you’re awfully sweet baby,” he croons, kissing Tony’s check and then temple, “You still down?” he asks lightly. 

Tony nods and smiles sweetly as he slips his hands around Bucky’s waist, fingers pushing under his shirt to make contact with the skin of his back. Bucky hums and lets Tony pull him down so he’s pressed lightly to him, smirking softly when Tony makes a whining disgruntled sound at how he’s holding himself back and then lets himself sink down fully atop Tony. 

Propping himself up on his elbows, he peers down at Tony’s face, affection making his heart lurch at how pleased Tony looks. Furrowing his fingers through Tony’s hair, he scritches his fingertips against Tony’s scalp, laughing softly when Tony makes a pleased sound almost like a purr. 

“Happy kitty, hmm?” he teases gently, laughing when Tony wrinkles his nose but nods, arching his neck to get more attention. Bucky takes the opportunity to duck his head and kiss over Tony’s throat, humming softly when Tony sighs and wriggles against him happily. Smiling against Tony’s skin, he presses wet kisses to Tony’s throat slowly, taking his time to relish the way Tony is soft and sweet and clingy. 

It’s taken him a few minutes, but he slowly realizes he’s not all the way out of Dom space either, and he’s more than a little reluctant to leave the warm cozy bed when Tony’s sighing softly and smiling, eyes closed as he basks in the attention Bucky is paying him. He nuzzles under Tony’s jaw and inhales the scent of happiness on his skin—it smells like caramel and cinnamon to him and he can’t get enough of it. 

“Hey JARVIS,” he murmurs, “Is the food done?” 

“Not yet sir, the salmon will be ready in approximately five minutes and the vegetables are roasted and resting in a warm oven. The rice is done and will need fluffing.”

Bucky hums and kisses Tony’s jaw, “What do you think kitten, you wanna get up and have dinner?” he asks softly, smiling when Tony makes a soft negative sound and clings harder to him. “Okay, ten more minutes and then I’m gonna have to get up and get us some food and water,” he warns Tony gently, kissing him when he makes a disgruntled sound. 

He shifts and tickles his fingers up Tony’s side, grinning at the way it makes Tony squirm and laugh, fine lines appearing around his eyes. Bucky’s heart swells stupidly at the sight of them and can’t help himself from kissing them, dotting kisses down his cheek till he can capture Tony’s lips again. 

Tony melts into it, sighing softly, his beautiful long lashes fluttering against Bucky’s cheek as they kiss. Tony’s hands slide up his back, a quiet moan coming from his throat as Bucky nips at his lip and deepens the kiss by tilting Tony’s head back. 

They stay that way, drifting along languidly, warm and close, touching each other slowly, trading kisses till eventually Bucky slows them down even more and his forehead is resting on Tony’s as they breathe slowly, quietly. 

There’s something beautiful about the quiet surrounding them, it’s peaceful and soothing and the sound of Tony’s steady heartbeat makes his throat go thick with emotion. He takes a few unsteady breaths before he’s settled again and then kisses Tony’s nose, smiling fondly at the way Tony laughs and wrinkles it. 

“I’m gonna go get us dinner, you going to be okay here by yourself for a few minutes?” he asks softly, petting Tony’s hair as he nods.

“Yea,” he murmurs, voice low and little hoarse, “Just come back?” he asks softly, like he’s worried Bucky will leave him here, and the idea of that makes Bucky’s chest hurt—the idea that someone has clearly hurt Tony over and over again always makes him angry, but seeing how much Tony tries to trust him in spite of it makes his throat go tight and his heart clench. 

“Yea baby, I’m comin right back,” he promises, kissing Tony’s cheek and running his fingers through his hair. “I promise.”

Tony nods again, still looking a little reluctant, and Bucky smiles softly, “Hey, remember, no lying right?” he says encouragingly, waiting for Tony’s hesitant sound of acknowledgement. “So remember, if I make a promise to do something, I’m gonna, okay?” 

Tony stares at him for a long long moment, biting at his lower lip before he finally nods and smiles weakly, “Okay.”

Bucky kisses him again, firmly this time. “I’m comin back baby, so you cuddle up and keep the bed warm for me, okay?” he says teasingly, pleased when it draws a real smile from Tony and a firm nod. “Good boy,” he murmurs, pecking Tony on the lips and grinning at his blush over the praise. 

Disentangling himself takes a minute, especially with Tony pouting and grabbing at the blankets and generally making himself an adorably clingy hindrance. Bucky finally frees himself with a soft laugh, and then he carefully tucks the sheets around Tony and kisses him again before hurrying downstairs to get their meal together. He piles heaps of rice into a serving dish and drizzles the sauce over it before adding a layer of vegetables and then finally enough salmon to feed both he and Tony. 

He grabs two bottles of water from the fridge and adds a glass of wine alongside them to the tray on the counter and then pulls out the carrot cake he’d made last night and brought with him. Cutting off two slices, he arranges everything on the tray so the weight is evenly distributed and then carries it up the stairs and to the bedroom where Tony is waiting. 

He smiles at the sight of Tony all cuddled up in the blankets, just like he’d left him and lets out a low wolf whistle to get his attention. “Heya doll,” he calls, grinning at the way it makes Tony blush, “what’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone?” 

Tony grins and lifts a teasing brow, “Well my dom left me here you see, and now I’m all _alone_ ,” he says with a coy little lilt to his voice that makes Bucky snort and shake his head at. 

“You poor thing,” he croons, setting the tray in Tony’s lap before sliding back under the covers and laying on his side to face Tony. “Guess you’ll just have to make do with me,” he says with a sad sigh, laughter hiding in his words as Tony grins at him, eyes sparkling with amusement. 

Tony leans in and kisses him and Bucky hums in pleased surprise, tilting his chin up to get a little more. “I think you’ll do just fine,” Tony murmurs before pulling away, fingers trailing over Bucky’s cheek before slipping away to pick up a fork. Bucky makes a soft sound of pleasure at the words and slides his feet over to tangle with Tony’s. 

Tony shoots him a smile and then scoops up a forkful of rice, veggies, and salmon, completely at ease and unconscious of himself as he takes a huge bite and chews happily. His happy noises and little wiggle make Bucky’s heart clench stupidly, a thrill of delight that his sub likes the meal running through him. 

He did that, _he_ made his sub happy and put food in his belly, and a flush of pride warms his cheeks. 

When Tony holds out a forkful for him, hand carefully steady and the other cupped under it to catch any stray bits of rice, Bucky happily opens his mouth and accepts it. Tony beams at him and Bucky grins as he licks his lips, “Thank you baby,” he murmurs, deeply enjoying the way Tony blushes and nods, looking bashfully pleased. 

A deep contentment fills him as Tony continues to feed him, carefully negotiated forkfuls that they take turns enjoying. Tony seems to glow with happiness as he serves Bucky bites, both of them content to enjoy the quiet closeness they’ve created here in this little nest of blankets and pillows. It occurs to him then, that he’s never really had a sub for long enough to enjoy them taking care of him like this. Jerome had massaged his back after his shifts at the docks and had read to him when he was tired and headachey, his hands strong after years of work at the docks alongside Bucky, but their relationship hadn’t lasted more than a few months before he’d been shipped out and then...

Sepia toned grief plagues his heart for a moment at the fond memories of a man that’s long dead, just another casualty of time. Bucky caresses Tony’s hip absentmindedly, a self soothing gesture he barely notices. He should tell Tony how he feels, but there’s something a little terrifying in admitting that he likes the way Tony takes care of him. Still, he thinks that with everything Tony’s been through with his doms in the past, he deserves honesty from Bucky. 

“I like it when you take care of me,” he tells Tony, dropping his gaze as he lowers his barriers a little, “It’s sweet and I haven’t had a lot of sweetness like this before,” he admits, gaze sweeping back up to meet Tony’s curious brown eyes. 

Tony’s lips purse into a frown and he shakes his head, “I don’t get how anyone could not want to take care of you,” he says, sounding frustrated. “You’re such a good dom, any sub would be falling all over themselves to show you how much they like it and want to reciprocate.”

Bucky shrugs, “A lot of people these days have odd ideas about doms and how they should be hard and unfeeling and don’t need assurance and affection too,” he says with a sad smile. When a hand lands on his shoulder he looks up to find Tony giving him a _look_ that is so _Tony_ it makes his heart flip over in his chest. 

“Fuck other people,” Tony says firmly, “They assume shit about you based on appearance or some snap judgment or a shitty opinion someone else gave them and they don’t know _you,”_ he murmurs emphatically. “You’re an awesome dom Bucky and I’m lucky to have you,” he says, voice growing shyer and cheeks pinking as he looks away, “I like taking care of you, when you let me.”

Bucky’s heart trips in his chest and he blushes, deeply pleased by Tony’s words and incredibly flattered that Tony thinks he’s a good dom. It soothes that constantly worried part of him, the one that whispers that he’s broken and weak and useless as a dom. Swallowing hard he nods and smiles shakily at Tony, “Thank you baby, I’m, I’m glad you feel that way,” he murmurs. “I like you taking care of me, even if I don’t…” he hesitates over his words and then forces himself to continue, “Even if my brain says I don’t deserve it sometimes.” 

Tony smirks and leans in for a kiss that’s tender and sweet. “Welcome to the shitty brain club, meetings are Friday’s at seven pm,” he jokes before kissing Bucky again and pulling away to pile his fork high before shoving it into his mouth with a satisfied grin. 

Bucky can’t help the laugh that bursts free, happiness and affection filling his chest like a sunburst. He leans in and kisses Tony’s belly and then taps his arm, “Can I have another bite?” he asks, “I’m hungry and need feeding,” he says with a teasing grin. 

“Spoiled,” Tony accuses, grinning back and scooping up a large bite, holding it steady as Bucky leans in a little further and closes his lips around it. 

They share bites of food and sips of wine and kisses in between, the taste of lemon and wine on their lips. The sheets are warm around them and when they’ve finally finished eating Bucky moves quickly to settle the tray at the foot of the bed before settling back into the sheets. Tony curls around him immediately, fingers curling into the front of his shirt and tugging him close for a sweet slow kiss that takes his breath away. 

Furrowing his fingers through Tony’s hair, he scritches lightly at Tony’s scalp as his lips move softly against Tony’s. An almost overwhelming joy fills him, like a tiny sun has filled his chest and is pulsing happily, glowing with warmth against his ribs. Tony makes soft happy noises each time Bucky scritches his fingertips against his scalp, and Bucky can’t help the hum of pleasure that’s vibrating in his throat at the way Tony slips his legs between Bucky’s and rubs them together. 

The smooth glide of his waxed skin makes Bucky grin into the kiss, his other hand sliding down Tony’s bare back light as a feather. Tony shivers and hums, arching into the touch with a happy noise that makes Bucky think of a kitten once again. He traces his fingers over Tony’s skin, feeling the scars and ridges of his ribs, the jut of his hipbone, the luscious swell of his ass. He touches without intent to arouse, simply to feel the beauty of the body against his, wondering faintly if he’ll ever get enough of Tony’s body. 

Probably not. 

The light outside the window has faded and in its place a warm orange glow rises in the corners of the room, automatically controlled by JARVIS, if Bucky had to guess. It’s cozy and soft and Bucky never ever wants to leave this little haven they’re in. He can clearly imagine them laying in bed together this winter, watching it snow, cozy and warm under the covers. He imagines them fucking slowly, languidly, and heat spills into his gut, a primer for more if he cares to take it further. 

Longing fills his chest, aching with how much he _wants_. 

He kisses Tony firmly, tightening his grip minutely on Tony’s hip, trying to soothe that thing in him that wants so much more than he can give it right now. He wants _so_ much from Tony, but he knows how deeply Tony’s been hurt in the past and he has no intention of rushing Tony into anything. They’ve just gotten to this point where they’re sharing little intimacies like kissing—they have a _much_ longer road to travel before they get to the things he yearns for. 

He comforts himself with the knowledge that what they have now is wonderful and beautiful, something to be treasured. If there’s anything he knows he can do well, it’s show Tony how adored and treasured he is. Smiling faintly, he draws back and eases them through a slow series of kisses till Tony is resting in the circle of his arms, smiling softly, eyelids heavy and cheeks pink. Bucky traces his smile with a delicate finger, “Hey doll,” he murmurs, “You up? Ready for a debrief?” he asks gently. 

Tony sighs and nods, looking like Bucky feels—it’s all ending far too soon. 

“So, did you like the wax?” Bucky asks, smiling playfully, “It seemed like you did,” he says teasingly. 

Tony blushes and nods, dark eyes lustful and hot as he bites his lip and meets Bucky’s gaze. The look is enough to have Bucky’s blood heating, the serum in his body a blessing and a curse for how easily it allows him to be ready to go again and again. “It was...overwhelming,” Tony murmurs, voice a little raspy and heated with desire. “It...didn’t hurt _exactly_ , it was more...hot and surprising, I guess?” he nods slowly, “I’ve never felt anything like that,” he admits bashfully, cheeks a lovely shade of pink.

Bucky feels an answering heat rising in his body and shifts, willing himself not to get hard over Tony blushing. Clearing his throat, he nods and smiles, “I’m glad you liked it,” he murmurs, “You seemed like you were down pretty hard this time, was that okay?” he asks. Tony hadn’t ever been nonverbal before like he had today—he’d been quiet in the past, but nothing like this. 

Tony blushes harder and Bucky’s fingers itch to trace it down his lovely throat, put his mouth on where it’s spilling onto his chest. 

“Bucky? You still in there snowflake?” 

He looks up when Tony tugs a little at Bucky’s shirt and realizes Tony must have asked him something while he was staring dumbly at his pink nipples, fantasizing about putting his mouth on them again. Tony lifts a brow, smirking like he knows exactly what was going on in Bucky’s mind and he can’t help but chuckle and reach out to push Tony’s hair back from his brow, “Sorry doll, got distracted by your pretty body,” he murmurs, grinning wickedly when Tony makes a choked sound of surprise and blushes crimson. 

“What was your question baby?” 

Tony huffs at him and shakes his head, “I wanted to know if you enjoyed it too,” he asks, “You uh, seemed to,” he says, shifting restlessly against Bucky, a hot look in his eyes as he licks his kiss swollen lips. 

Bucky smirks, “You mean me using your pretty mouth to get off?” he says casually, smirk widening when it makes Tony squirm in embarrassment and nod, lip white where it’s caught between his teeth. Bucky reaches out and tugs it free, thumbing over the teeth marks, blood heating at the way Tony pants softly, lips parted just enough that Bucky could so easily slip his fingers in. 

“Yea baby, I enjoyed that,” he murmurs, “I love your mouth,” he says. “You take my cock so well, let me use you and mark you up with my cum,” he says as he drags his thumb over Tony’s lip again, a groan held back between gritted teeth as Tony leans in and closes his lips around it, sucking lightly. Tony’s eyes are dark as night, pupils blown wide with arousal that Bucky can smell on him and feel in the heat that’s building between them. 

He’d like nothing more than to give into the temptation that Tony embodies so well, but he knows that without the structure of a scene, he’s likely to give into the urge to utterly devastate Tony with pleasure, and that’s not something he thinks either of them are truly ready for. Regretfully, he pulls his thumb free and wipes it on Tony’s cheek, smirking at the shudder it sends over Tony’s body. 

He loves the way Tony enjoys being used, the way he sinks into hedonistic pleasure so wantonly, beautifully. “You’re trouble, aren’t ya baby?” he teases, pressing his thumb into Tony’s chin to hold him in place for a searing kiss, “Damn near make me lose my mind,” he murmurs against Tony’s mouth. Tony makes a soft noise and chases his mouth when he pulls away and Bucky can’t help but tease, allowing him to get close before pulling away, chuckling at his whine of protest. 

Furrowing his fingers into Tony’s hair, he tugs him in, “C’mere baby,” he croons, smiling faintly against Tony’s lips as he kisses him. Tony melts into his embrace, pressing forward till they’re chest to chest, hip to hip and he can feel the way Tony is half hard against his hip. He groans and pulls away, breathing unsteadily as he presses his brow to Tony’s, both of them clutching at the other tightly. 

“I knew the second I kissed you I was gonna have a hell of a time keeping my hands off you,” he murmurs to Tony with a wry little laugh, “You’re the best kind of temptation darlin.” 

To his surprise Tony laughs, a little hysterically, and tugs on his shirt, “Have you seen _you_?” he demands, grinning, “ _You’re_ the one that’s temptation. With your shoulders and _thighs_ and you do this growly thing like a wolf that is—” he shudders, eyes falling half closed in delight, “Very hot.”

Bucky grins sharply, all teeth, and leans in to nip at Tony’s jaw, “Mmm, a wolf huh,” he murmurs, “Does that make you little red riding hood?” he teases, enjoying the way Tony jolts at another nip. “Hmm? You scared the big bad wolf is gonna eat you up?” he growls, letting his voice go lower and deeper. 

_“Scared?”_ Tony says with a breathless laugh, fisting his hand in Bucky’s hair to pull him back so their eyes can meet. “I _want_ it,” he murmurs, eyes dark and voice hot and god, Bucky is such a fucking _goner_ for this man. 

Groaning, he leans in and rests his forehead against Tony’s collarbones, laughing softly. “Have mercy darlin,” he says with a weak laugh, “My poor old heart can’t take you sayin shit like that.”

Tony laughs and it vibrates into him, a warm happy sound that makes his heart light. He pets his fingers through Bucky’s hair gently, voice rumbling in Bucky’s ear as he murmurs, “Sorry grandpa, I’ll get you a pacemaker, how bout that?” he says teasingly. Bucky snorts and pushes him away till he’s on his back and Bucky can grin down at him, shaking his head in amusement as Tony grins back, cocky and teasing and so adorable that Bucky wants to kiss him senseless. 

“You’re the worst,” he tells Tony lightly, “And I would like a refund please.”

Tony cackles in delight, eyes screwed shut as he laughs and a flash of fondness fills Bucky’s chest so full it takes his breath away. Smirking softly, he tickles Tony’s side and then trails his fingers up to cup his cheek, both of them quieting at the tender touch. “I’m glad you enjoyed it baby,” he says honestly, “Was there anything you didn’t enjoy?” 

Tony shakes his head and smiles warmly at him, “Nope, it was all very, _very_ good,” he assures Bucky. “How about you? Anything wrong?” he asks, reaching up to tangle their fingers together before bringing them down to rest on his chest, just below where the reactor glows. 

Bucky shakes his head, “Not a thing darlin,” he replies with a fond smile. “You were perfect.”

Tony blushes and wags a finger at him playfully, “You’re going to inflate my ego if you keep that up and then where will we be?” he says with a grin. 

Bucky leans in to kiss him sweetly, “Exactly where we should be—with you knowing how wonderful you are,” he murmurs before pulling away. He grins at the way Tony looks flustered and slightly baffled, enjoying the way that his near constant honesty and affection always seems to throw Tony off. Pecking another kiss to his lips, he forces himself to roll out of the warm cocoon of sheets, “Stay here,” he orders, “I’ll be right back.”

Tony nods, looking bemused, and Bucky hurries down the hall to the playroom where his clothes had been left. He gathers them quickly and heads back, piling the clothes on Tony’s side of the bed before grabbing his jeans and pulling them on. He seats himself on the bed and pulls his socks on and then reclines back against the headboard while Tony dresses, smirking when the other man looks over and finds him gazing appreciatively at the sight of his nude body. 

Tony blushes and points a finger at him, “Lech,” he accuses playfully. 

Bucky looks pointedly at Tony’s bare chest and smirks, “Guilty as charged baby.” 

Snorting softly, Tony grins and shakes his head, pulling on his trousers and then his tshirt before settling back beside Bucky, his feet still bare. Bucky watches his toes wiggle into the sheets for a moment before clearing his throat and meeting Tony’s gaze. “So, for next week, I was thinking I could tie you up and edge you again,” he says, smirking at the way Tony’s throat works hard at his words. “There’s something else I’d like, but I want it to be a surprise?” he suggests cautiously, trying to gauge Tony’s response by the emotions on his face. 

Surprise, wariness, interest—it’s all there. 

“What...can- can you give me a hint?” Tony asks cautiously, fingers nervously playing with the hem of his shirt. 

Bucky bites his lip and then nods slowly, “It’s...nothing you wouldn’t like,” he says, trying his best to hedge. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I promise, if you don’t want to do the rest, I’ll be fine with that. There’s no punishment for not wanting to do something,” he reminds Tony gently. 

Tony’s fingers tap against the reactor and Bucky knows it’s a sign he’s worried, anxious. Tony avoids his gaze for a few moments as he chews his lip, thoughtful and quiet. When he looks back up, Bucky can see the yearning in his eyes as he asks, “You promise I can trust you?” in such a heartbreaking voice that it chokes Bucky up for a minute. 

He nods emphatically, cautious as he reaches out to take Tony’s hand in his, gentle as he lifts it and brushes his lips against the scarred and worn knuckles. “I swear to you baby, you can trust me,” he assures Tony, emotion making his voice thick, “I won’t ever hurt you and I’ll respect what you want.” 

Tony hesitates for a moment longer and then nods, lips twisting into something that’s not quite a smile, eyes sad. “I’m sorry I keep asking,” he says quietly, “I know you mean it, I just have a hard time...” he huffs softly and shakes his head, “Um— _believing it,_ sometimes.”

Bucky smirks painfully, “Welcome to the shitty brain club,” he jokes softly, sharing a wry smile with Tony when he looks up at Bucky. Brushing his lips against Tony’s knuckles again, he smiles softer this time, “I know what you mean darlin and I don’t hold it against you. I can’t fault you for something I got goin on too,” he says. “I know people haven’t been kind to you in the past, but I promise, I’m never gonna hurt you so long as I can help it. I’d rather cut my own hand off than use it to hurt you baby.”

Tony’s eyes widen for a moment before he huffs out a laugh, “That- I don’t think that’ll be necessary, but I appreciate the gesture and the sentiment,” he assures Bucky, squeezing his fingers where they’re twined with Bucky’s. 

Bucky smiles softly in return and nods, taking Tony’s hand and flipping it so he can kiss the palm before pressing it to his chest, “I’m serious as a heart attack baby, you’re mine and I’m not ever gonna do anything that would hurt you. You’re amazing and I treasure what we have, please believe that.”

Tony stares at him wide eyed for a moment before nodding, a blush on his cheeks as his fingers curl into Bucky’s shirt. “Okay,” he agrees, sounding breathless and overwhelmed. 

Bucky nods and grins, “Okay then.” He presses Tony’s hand into his chest again, “I know work is important for you, but if you can, can you be here by five next week?” he asks cautiously. “We need a little more time for this scene,” he explains. 

Tony lifts a brow at that but nods, “I can make that work,” he says, “No problem.” 

Bucky grins, pleased, and leans in for another kiss, murmuring _thank you_ against Tony’s lips before spotting the clock over Tony’s shoulder, frowning softly when he sees that it reads nearly midnight. Bucky sighs, smiling sadly, “Time to hit the road,” he murmurs, “You gotta get home and get some rest.” 

Tony shrugs as he pulls on his socks, “Maybe, it’s always hard to go back to sleep after a nap,” he murmurs, shooting Bucky a reassuring smile, “But I’ll try...sir.”

Bucky’s insides warm at the honorific and he leans over the expanse of the bed to kiss Tony, slow and sweet like he knows makes Tony melt. “Good boy,” he murmurs, smirking at the way it makes Tony shudder in delight. When he’s fully dressed again, he waits for Tony to finish and then offers his hand, smiling when the other man takes it and allows Bucky to lead him down the hallway and back downstairs. 

He walks Tony out to his car and slips his hands under the edges of Tony’s blazer, gripping Tony’s hips firmly and pulling him close, smiling when Tony’s arms loop around his neck easily. “You’re gonna go home and try to sleep, right?” he asks quietly, thumbs slipping under Tony’s tshirt to rub soothing circles against his back. 

Tony hums, eyes hooded and face relaxed, “Yes sir,” he agrees once more. He rises up on his toes and kisses Bucky, swaying into his chest and Bucky bands his arm around Tony’s waist, hand slipping down to grip his ass. He can smell Tony’s cologne on his clothes and under that is the scent of wax and sweat, the salty undertones of cum making his gut clench with desire. 

He opens his mouth and devours Tony, a low pleased sound in his throat (perhaps a little wolf-like) as Tony moans and slumps into him. It occurs to him as he’s kissing Tony that he could probably come from just this, just Tony’s mouth against his, their bodies pressed together hotly. When he finally pulls away, Tony’s lips are crimson and slick, inviting, but he keeps himself in line and instead drops a kiss to Tony’s forehead and guides him into his car. 

Bending down, he grins into the interior of the car, enjoying the slightly stunned look on Tony’s face. “Drive safe baby and let me know when you get there,” he instructs, leaning in to kiss his cheek swiftly before standing upright and stepping back to leave room for Tony to maneuver the car. 

“Will do,” Tony agrees, giving him one last lingering look before shaking his head and turning away, the window rolling up and then the sound of classic rock reverbereates through the vehicle. Bucky snorts and waves, grinning fondly as the car pulls away and leaves him standing there in the muggy summer night air. 

He stands there till the taillights are gone and then turns back to head inside and clean up. It doesn’t take long for him to pack up the leftovers into tupperware for himself, pausing for a moment as he considers an idea. 

“JARVIS?”

“Sir.”

“Would you be able to get someone to pick up these leftovers and get them to Tony?” he asks. 

“Of course sir, right away.”

“Thank you JARVIS.”

“Of course Bucky.”

Bucky grins and shakes his head at the politeness the AI shows him and then puts the containers for Tony into the fridge and the ones for him on the counter. He heads back up to the playroom and gathers up the candles, storing them away. There’s no wax on the tarps he’d put down, so he rolls them up and stores them away as well before wiping down the table Tony had been on. 

When he’s done he wanders down the hall and stares into the bedroom, a faint smile on his lips as he recalls the way Tony had clung to him tonight, how he’d been so soft and sweet it had damn near broke Bucky’s heart. He goes over to the bed and neatens the sheets, pausing for a moment to bunch them against his nose so he can inhale the scent of Tony. It’s all too easy to recall the way Tony had looked, naked and sleepy, and a pang of yearning shoots through him. 

Maybe someday soon they can stay here, through the night, together. He can wake up while Tony’s still asleep and make breakfast for them, watch the way Tony’s eyes light up and enjoy his delighted, surprised (always so surprised at being taken care of) smile. 

Someday. 

For now he makes the bed even though he knows Tony has people who would do it for them and then heads back downstairs and gathers up his food. When he steps outside the car that had brought him here is waiting, tail lights glowing in the darkness. He greets the driver in a muted voice and sits back, closing his eyes as they start rumbling down the gravel driveway. 

A smile creeps over his lips and he sighs softly, happily, heart content. 

The further they get from the cabin though, the more it feels like he’s _leaving_ home instead of going _toward_ it, and the intensity of the feeling makes his chest contract almost painfully. 

He reminds himself not to get too attached because someday soon Tony is going to find a Dom that has the means to spoil him rotten, one who isn’t broken and weighed down with nearly a century of baggage, and he needs to be ready for that day. 

It leaves his throat thick and he peers out the window as the lights of the city come closer, praying to a God he’s not sure he believes in, that _that_ day, the one he loses Tony, won’t come too soon. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This stunning rotoscope brought to you by the amazing Latelierderiot!](https://latelierderiot.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written by RiotFalling
> 
> [You can find me @riotwritesthings on Tumblr!](https://riotwritesthings.tumblr.com/)

Tony doesn’t make it out to the cabin quite as early as he’d wanted.

At least he managed to get a good amount of work done this week, though. And he mostly managed to keep himself from getting distracted by the memory of warm wax against his skin, the sharp burst of heat followed by a warmth that’s almost soothing. He does enough to keep Pepper and the board happy at least, enough to not feel like he’s _completely_ useless.

Between proposal meetings that run painfully long and the beginnings of rush hour traffic, Tony is a little antsy by the time he finally turns into the driveway of the cabin. He should still have maybe fifteen minutes before Bucky arrives, which will at least give Tony time to check out the new decor he ordered for the bedroom and make sure it doesn’t look terrible in person, find out if that one step in making the place _actually his_ feels like it’s working.

Except when Tony pulls up to the cabin the lights are already on, a warm inviting glow through the windows, and so much for getting here before Bucky.

He can’t help smiling a little despite himself, and he finds that he’s not actually disappointed at all that Bucky beat him here. He does wonder why Bucky didn’t let him know he was here though, Tony would have driven faster. He hopes that Bucky at least found a way to entertain himself while he’s been waiting, that he hasn’t been too bored.

Tony finds his heart beating a little faster as he quickly climbs out of the car and all but jogs up the front steps, excitement twisting bright and undeniable in his stomach. He has a half-formed plan to burst in and demand to know how much weird hipster art Bucky has snuck onto his walls while left unattended, he’s looking forward to finding out if Bucky will just roll his eyes with a huff of laughter or if he’ll have some snarky comeback, but then Tony actually pushes the door open and his brain comes to a screeching halt.

The first things that hit him are the tangy smell of something citrusy and soft music, and then Tony loses his breath completely as he spots Bucky, standing in the kitchen with the biggest goddamn grin.

“Hey baby,” Bucky calls, setting aside the knife from where he’s apparently chopping vegetables to wave Tony over.

For a second all Tony can do is stare at him, stuck by the insane and unhelpful thought that this must be what it feels like, coming home to someone at the end of the day, and no wonder everyone is so crazy about the whole ‘functioning relationship’ thing.

Then Tony manages to get himself together enough to slowly shuffle across the cabin, still staring at Bucky with what is probably an embarrassingly baffled look.

“You have to work outside the shop today?” Bucky asks when Tony finally makes it to the kitchen and rounds the island, but Tony barely even registers the question. He’s too busy staring in mounting confusion because not only are there chopped vegetables, there is also what looks to be a bag of saucy meat, and he is really having trouble getting his brain back online.

Which Tony is absolutely going to name as the reason he artlessly points at the marinade bag and demands “What is _that?”_

“I, it’s salmon? JARVIS said it’s one of your favorites?” Bucky says and Tony instantly feels bad about the way his voice is more of a question than anything, the way Bucky’s smile has dropped a little and his shoulders have obviously gone tight when Tony drags his eyes up again. “I’m sorry,” Bucky continues before Tony can figure out how to fix it, and Tony’s chest clenches at the way his voice comes out soft and unsure, “I should have checked with you, I can, we can get something else, it’s fine.”

“What? No, Bucky, I meant, what is all _this?”_ Tony blurts, which honestly isn’t much better. and then reaches out to gently grab Bucky’s wrist, just trying to get Bucky to look up at him again. Maybe then he’ll see that Tony isn’t _mad,_ he’s just _really fucking confused._

Because he’d understand it if Bucky wanted to use the kitchen, just based on what Bucky’s said it’s probably bigger than the one in his apartment, but he’s making _salmon._ He apparently asked JARVIS what Tony’s favorite is, and Tony just can’t figure it out.

“Why are you cooking?” He finally asks, a little helpless and momentarily terrified that for some reason Bucky thinks he _has to._

“We always ate after and I like cooking and taking care of you,” Bucky says with a tiny shrug, tension still obvious in the movement, and Tony can barely hear it past the jump of his pulse as Bucky hurries to add “But if you don’t want me to, we can just order pizza or something, it’s fine.”

Tony knows he should say something to get rid of that growing frown on Bucky’s face, because homemade food sounds way better than eating pizza for the fourth time this week, but he’s kind of stuck on the first part of that statement. All Tony can do is continue staring for a second before he drifts a little closer, his voice embarrassingly quiet and shaky as he asks “You want to cook for me?”

Bucky nods slowly, still looking unsure, but he reaches out almost hesitantly with the hand not still in Tony’s hold and puts it on Tony’s waist. The swell of surprised joy in Tony’s chest is almost overwhelming, and he doesn’t even have a _chance_ to stop himself before surging forward, pulling Bucky a little closer with his hand on Bucky’s wrist, and then he leans up a tiny bit to press a grateful kiss to Bucky’s cheek.

When Tony pulls away Bucky is grinning widely again, relaxing, and Tony has to fight down what would probably be an audible sigh of relief. Tony returns the smile as Bucky's arms wrap around his waist to reel him right back in again and Tony only loses his breath _a little_ at the easy strength in the motion, the small smirk that grows on Bucky's face.

“Why don’t you give me a kiss darlin and then tell me how your day was?” Bucky says, like he's not already leaning in to do just that, and Tony is all too happy to meet him halfway, chasing the tempting curve of Bucky’s smile.

Tony sighs softly through his nose at the first press of Bucky’s lips against his own, just as soft and addictive as he remembers, and Tony can’t help sliding his hands up Bucky’s strong chest to cling to the back of his neck. The loose bun comes undone with barely a tug, and Tony barely remembers to slide the hair tie around his own wrist before burying his fingers into Bucky’s hair, a soft happy sound rising in his chest as the soft strands slide smoothly between his fingers.

The groan that bursts out of Tony’s chest when Bucky backs him into the counter is a little embarrassing, but all too quickly it’s forgotten as Bucky presses fully against him, solid and warm, stealing what little brain power Tony has that’s not focused on just trying to stay standing. Not that Tony really has to worry about falling anyways, Bucky’s hands are strong and firm as they slide up his back and Tony arches forward with another low moan, tightening his fingers in Bucky’s hair and trying to get _closer._

Bucky’s teeth drag playfully over Tony’s lower lip as he breaks the kiss, and Tony is still gasping for breath when Bucky’s hands slide to his thighs and then lift him _up,_ setting him smoothly on the kitchen counter while Tony just tries not to squeak out loud. The hard twist of arousal in his gut when Bucky moves him around so easily is at least familiar by now, even if it does still leave Tony reeling a little. He’s left clinging breathlessly to the back of Bucky’s neck, thighs tightening around Bucky’s sides as his cock gives a hard throb in his fitted jeans.

The playful, knowing smirk on Bucky’s face isn’t helping any, but rather than wasting time on empty complaints Tony just tips his head back when Bucky nips at his jaw, trying to give him more room.

Tony is at least a little more prepared for it this week, being greeted with hunger and affection and the warmth of Bucky’s hands sliding up his sides, Bucky’s breath against his skin. That doesn’t mean Tony knows what to _do_ with it though, and all Tony can do is melt into it.

Bucky continues placing kisses along the line of his neck, the perfect hint of tongue and teeth, not enough to leave any marks just like Tony had asked but more than enough to drive all thought from his head. Resisting the urge to rock forward and grind his quickly swelling cock against Bucky’s stomach is about all Tony can manage, he definitely can’t do a _damn_ thing about the soft, desperate whines rising in his throat.

Arousal builds slowly in his gut with every drag of Bucky’s soft lips against his skin, inescapable and demanding, until Tony’s entire body feels lit up and tingling with it. When Bucky shifts up to nuzzle at his cheek instead Tony makes a soft, happy sound, warmth filling his chest and the last of the tension that’s been building in him all day finally melting away.

“Tell me about your day,” Bucky says softly, lips moving over Tony’s flushed cheek, and then presses a final kiss to the same spot before pulling away and it drags a pitiful little sad noise from Tony’s chest as he loses his loose grip on Bucky’s hair.

Tony keeps his eyes closed as he drags in one slow breath after another, trying to ignore the heat that’s surging through him and the demanding throb of his cock, because apparently Bucky expects him to be able to form _words_ right now. Tony _might_ get a little distracted dwelling on the memory of Bucky pressed huge between his thighs, the heated slide of Bucky’s lips against his skin, and it’s only when Bucky taps his knee that Tony remembers right, his day.

“I uh, had a bunch of meetings today with R&D about that tech I told you about? The virtual reality?” Tony blurts quickly, not sure that Bucky will even remember what he’s talking about, but when Bucky nods he continues. “We’re moving ahead with it and there have been some uh, issues with the man who designed it. He’s not exactly pleased with the direction I want to take it in and it’s looking like I’m going to have to let him go.”

“Is he going to be a problem?” Bucky asks with a slight frown, moving confidently around the kitchen as he finishes with the vegetables and still giving Tony his full attention, like hearing detail-less stories of Tony’s daily annoyances is actually interesting.

“He’ll be HR’s problem, not mine. Pepper isn’t pleased, but then, I don’t think she’s ever happy with the way I handle things, there’s not a lot I can do about it,” Tony says with a shrug, because honestly on the list of things that keep him up at night this is pretty low. “His ideas all focus on weaponizing it and we don’t do that at SI, not anymore.”

Tony has to bite his lip so he won’t break into the all too familiar rant about how that’s never going to be what SI does, not ever again. No matter what the board or the profit margins or even Pepper says, they don’t have to live with it the way he does. Sure, Pepper tries to understand, but she hasn’t seen what Tony has, she doesn’t feel the same weight of it on her shoulders and Tony wouldn’t want her to. She’s just doing her job, doing more than ever should have reasonably been expected of her, she didn’t build an entire life around building weapons and then never think twice about where they ended up.

It’s a whole list of reasons Tony could probably recite in his sleep at this point, he’s had to do it so many times, but he’s _tired._

He doesn’t want to think about it here, in this weird dream world where his kitchen is warm and used, soft music still playing, he’d much rather focus on watching curiously as Bucky turns to deal with the ziploc bag of salmon.

Apparently Bucky can see something in his face, the stress trying to creep back in, because his voice is filled with understanding as he says “Long day then.” Tony nods with a sigh that’s part exhaustion and part relief, because it doesn’t sound like Bucky is expecting him to say anything more. Especially when Bucky nudges his glass of wine over to Tony with a soft grin and says “Sounds like you need it more than I do.”

Tony just blinks at the glass for a second in surprise, but if Bucky doesn’t mind sharing then Tony certainly isn’t going to go to all the effort of getting his own glass. He takes a tiny, experimental sip of the wine, humming happily at the taste and then nearly yelping when Bucky swoops in to kiss him again, tongue dragging slow and intentional over Tony’s lower lip.

“Mmm, tastes so good on your lips,” Bucky croons softly, the shape of his smirk obvious against Tony’s lips, and Tony has to tighten his grip on the wine glass or risk dropping it.

With his free hand Tony quickly reaches out and tangles his fingers in Bucky’s hair again, pulling him in for more kisses and his stomach twists when Bucky _lets him._ There’s definitely something thrilling about curling down around Bucky like this, kissing him with slow, heated drags of their lips while Bucky’s hands rest gently on his hips, and Tony even manages not to pout when Bucky eventually pulls away again.

Tony sips the wine and watches curiously as Bucky moves on to prepare something else, the smell of citrus getting stronger and _god_ Tony can’t wait for this meal.

The feeling of strange domesticity only gets stronger as Bucky starts humming along to the music, and for a second the wave of longing that hits Tony is almost overwhelming. It’s almost enough to rattle the walls Tony has built to keep himself from thinking about the things he wants but can’t have, for a second it’s hard to _breathe_ around, and Tony has to clear his throat before he can hope to speak.

“Where did you learn to cook?” he asks quickly, desperate for the distraction with the bonus of being genuinely curious, “The army?”

“A bit there,” Bucky says with a nod, “Mostly from my ma. She always told me it wasn’t enough for me to be a pretty face or a dom, I needed to be a good man who could take care of himself and the ones I loved.” By the end Bucky’s smile has gone a little sad, a little bittersweet, and Tony feels his chest clench.

“She sounds like an amazing woman,” he says softly, because she _does,_ and as much as Tony wants to ask more questions he can pretty well imagine the pain of talking about it. So instead Tony makes his voice light and teasing and tries to give Bucky an out as he asks “She taught you how to make Asian salmon?”

“Nah, that was Sam,” Bucky says, his smile brightening a little, and Tony hides his own grin behind the rim of the wineglass. “I lived with him for a while until I got my feet under me and he taught me how to make a lot of different things,” Bucky adds as he starts loading trays of food into the oven, then he washes his hands and holds one out to Tony with a soft demand of “Now, c’mere doll.”

Tony shamelessly finishes off the glass of wine before setting it down and sliding his way off the counter, moving closer to take Bucky’s offered hand with equal parts confusion and curiosity. He gasps when Bucky pulls him in with one firm tug, Bucky’s other arm sliding around his waist to tug him in a little closer so they’re pressed together chest to chest.

Bucky starts slow dancing them around the kitchen, and Tony lets out a surprised laugh even as he jumps on the opportunity to wrap his arm up around Bucky’s wide shoulders and cling to him a little tighter. It requires no thought at all to let Bucky move them around the room with smooth, confident steps, all Tony has to do is follow Bucky’s lead and he can focus on admiring the delighted shine of Bucky’s eyes.

“Pretty smooth on your feet there soldier,” Tony can’t help teasing, shifting his hand to the back of Bucky’s neck instead so he can play with Bucky’s hair again, “Where’d you learn this? Also from Sam?”

“Ma taught me and my sister Becca made me practice so I wouldn’t step all over the girls’ feet when I went dancin,” Bucky says and his smile is a little less sad this time, a little less heartbreaking as he dips Tony and then twirls him. Tony can’t help laughing softly as Bucky pulls him in close again, every movement graceful and confident, and the grin on Bucky’s face is wide as he asks “How about you?”

“I have lots of useless rich boy skills,” Tony says with a smirk, tapping his fingers against Bucky’s shoulder as he lists off, “Which includes sailing, ballroom dancing, looking pretty for the cameras and knowing which fork is best for stabbing wandering hands during the soup course.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head, which is a reaction Tony is pretty used to inspiring in people, and he takes the opportunity to marvel at the way Bucky’s laugh lights up his face. His eyes scrunch up, something that are nearly dimples appear in his cheeks, and Tony can’t think of any word to describe it other than _adorable._ He doesn’t get to admire it for long because Bucky leans in to kiss him, a breathtakingly gentle drag of Bucky’s lips against his, and Tony is not going to complain.

“I dunno, that last one sounds pretty useful,” Bucky teases, and Tony barely even notices that they’ve stopped dancing, more just swaying in place and sharing the same space, “You’ll have to teach me that sometime.”

Tony throws his head back with a loud laugh, momentarily lost in the mental image of Bucky very carefully selecting the correct utensil for wrecking havoc during a fancy dinner party. Tony has a half-formed response on his lips, something about the correct spoon for licking seductively across the table at people, but he loses it along with his breath when Bucky’s eyes abruptly go dark and hungry.

As always, that look has a flair of heat starting up in Tony’s gut, spreading through his whole body, and it only spikes higher when Bucky’s hand slides from Tony’s lower back to palm at his ass.

“Hey JARVIS,” Bucky says, voice a little rough and his eyes not leaving Tony’s, “When I tell you, put the lower oven on 450 and the upper on 425, forty minutes for them both.”

“Very good sir,” JARVIS replies and Tony has to fight down a pout because sure, he’s looking forward to that food, but he’s looking forward to the promise in Bucky’s smirk more.

“C’mon darlin I got some things I want your opinion on upstairs,” Bucky says, giving Tony’s ass one firm squeeze before he steps away. He doesn’t release his hold on Tony’s hand, instead using it to lead Tony up the stairs, and Tony tightens his grip on Bucky's fingers with a grin.

Bucky shoves the door open with his shoulder and then pauses to look around the freshly painted playroom while Tony is much more interested in watching _him,_ excitement building quick and undeniable in his gut. Bucky leads him over to the gold pegboard wall before finally releasing his hand to reach for one of the drawers instead.

Tony's stomach does an abrupt twist-and-drop motion though when Bucky pulls out the same smooth leather cuffs from two weeks ago.

He feels himself go tense, a little glad that Bucky has released his hand so at least he doesn't feel it, and Tony can clench his fists to keep them from shaking. He barely even notices the silk bindings that Bucky pulls out next past the effort to keep his breathing steady as his mind jumps ahead to tomorrow, the afternoon meeting he has and he’ll have to make sure he wears long sleeves to hide the marks—

“Which would you like for me to use to tie you up with?” Bucky asks, holding his gaze steadily when Tony snaps his eyes up again and his voice is soft but serious as he reminds Tony “The only right answer here is the one where you’re truthful.”

Tony manages a weak nod as Bucky continues watching him carefully, then ducks his chin, biting his lip and shifting slightly under the weight of Bucky’s stare. His eyes land on the cuffs again, and Tony swallows hard as he quickly looks down at the floor instead.

“Not the cuffs,” he says quietly, knowing Bucky can hear him anyways, and Tony could so easily leave it there. He’s pretty sure Bucky isn’t actually going to ask him to explain himself, but Tony feels like he needs to anyway, at least a little bit. More surprising, he finds that he _wants_ to, so even though his voice comes out rough and thick Tony forces out “My... ex, he- he liked it when I would thrash in them, and he’d... he’d leave me in them for a really long time and it, the marks were just- really hard to hide.”

And that’s about all Tony can manage, he doesn’t even like _thinking_ about Ty if he can help it and he just knows if he tries to say any more he’s going to end up a mess of paranoia and nerves like he was the first couple weeks.

It’s already kind of hard to breathe around the lump in his throat, embarrassment and nerves winding up tight in his chest, but Tony does manage a soft sigh when from the edge of his vision he sees Bucky turn and place the cuffs back into the drawer, closing them away again.

Once that’s done Bucky turns back towards him, and Tony reluctantly drags his eyes up just enough to watch as Bucky slowly and intentionally reaches out to take Tony’s hands in his own, gently pushing the cuffs of Tony’s blazer up with his thumbs. Tony’s breath catches a little, stomach twisting, and he looks up at Bucky just in time to see the soft smile on Bucky’s face before he leans down to drag his lips lightly over the delicate skin of Tony’s inner wrist.

Tony’s heart lurches in his chest and then starts beating double time as Bucky presses an equally soft kiss to his other wrist, eyes flicking up to meet Tony’s startled gaze.

“I would _never_ hurt you like that,” Bucky says seriously, like a promise, then stands up straight again and releases one of Tony’s hands to cup his cheek instead. Tony leans into the steadying warmth of his palm helplessly, doesn’t even try to stop it and mostly just counts himself lucky that he’s not full on nuzzling into Bucky’s hand.

“I’m starting to get that,” Tony says with a weak attempt at a smile, eyes feeling dangerously hot and tight and he’s not sure which part is more terrifying, that he blurted that out without thought or that it’s actually _true._ No matter how many times Tony tries to remind himself it’s a terrible idea, he can’t help believing it when Bucky says that he can trust him.

Luckily Bucky leans in to kiss his cheek, hopefully not noticing that Tony is trying to blink back tears he can’t even pinpoint the cause of, and Tony leans into it with a soft hum when Bucky’s next light kiss lands on his lips.

Tony revels in it for a second, the nearly overwhelmingly sweet brush of Bucky’s lips against his own, and then he has to pull away to bury his face in Bucky’s chest instead.

He needs to get himself under control, go back to being all twisted up with arousal and anticipation instead because that is _way_ easier to deal with than all these _other_ emotions. It’s a mix of surprise and relief and fondness that Tony still doesn’t know what to do with, but is getting dangerously addicted to.

At least rubbing his face into the thick, solid muscle of Bucky’s chest is a pretty good distraction, especially when Bucky’s hand slides back so his fingers press into Tony’s hair, rubbing at his scalp. Bucky smells _amazing,_ as usual, earthy cologne and clean soap and the faintest lingering scent of a garage, and the warm familiarity of it has the heated anticipation in Tony’s gut returning with a vengeance.

“You ok?” Bucky asks, soft and concerned, and Tony nods into his chest, hugging him a little tighter before pulling back enough that he can look up at Bucky, warmth spreading up into his chest.

“I’m good,” he assures Bucky with a smile and another small nod, “Promise.”

After a couple long seconds of studying Tony’s face Bucky is apparently satisfied, because he nods and steps back, hands falling away from Tony slowly as he says “Good, I want you to wait there.”

Tony nods and then watches in open amusement as Bucky sets to work lighting the candles scattered around the room. Bucky must have gotten here quite a bit before him, to have already set all this up, and Tony smiles a little wider because he’s still so relieved that his spontaneous suggestion to come out here is actually _working._ That Bucky apparently _does_ feel comfortable here.

Hell, he’s even comfortable having JARVIS in charge of his cooking times, and Tony is completely helpless against how charming he finds that.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by Bucky slipping a finger into his belt loop and easily tugging him in close again. Tony has to grab for Bucky’s chest to steady himself as his stomach gives a hard twist of arousal and his legs go a little wobbly, a hard shiver running down his spine at the easy display of strength.

Bucky smirks knowingly, and Tony doesn’t care at all that he’s apparently super transparent because Bucky is leaning in to kiss him again and Tony melts into it eagerly. He barely even notices when Bucky starts working his blazer down off his shoulders, far more interested in the way Bucky’s lips are trailing warm and soft and teasing along his jaw.

Tony makes a soft sound when Bucky’s hands slide down his back and around his sides, under his shirt. Tony’s breathing is already going ragged and uneven as he lets his head tip back, another shudder running through him at the feeling of Bucky’s warm, calloused palm against his skin, the contrast with the smooth metal plates of his other hand. Tony slides his own hands up to Bucky’s shoulders, clinging to him tighter as Bucky starts kissing his throat instead and sliding his shirt up his chest.

It drags a startled moan out of Tony when Bucky’s teeth drag against his skin at the same time that Bucky’s cool metal fingers close around one of his nipples, and Tony flushes a little harder as the sound comes out shaking around the way he’s practically vibrating in Bucky’s hold. Bucky pulls away just long enough to strip Tony’s shirt off and then Tony is eagerly pulling him back in, desperate for the feeling of Bucky’s soft lips against his skin, the occasional catch of teeth that have the heat in Tony’s veins spiking higher.

Tony doesn’t even realize they’re moving until he backs into the massage table, Bucky huge and thick against his front, and he collapses down on his elbows on the padded surface with a gasp. It leaves Tony’s back pulled into a sharp arch and Bucky wastes no time pouncing on him again, pinning him in place with one hand while his metal fingers return to Tony’s nipple and Bucky brings his mouth down on the other.

Every drag of Bucky’s teeth and every pinch of his fingers has Tony’s blood rushing hotter, his breath coming faster as bright sparks of pleasure burn their way down his spine. Tony is only barely aware of the loud moans spilling out of him, and he hadn’t even realized how much he’d been constantly aware of the sound levels at the hotel until suddenly he doesn’t _have to_ anymore. He doesn’t have to spare any thought to how loud he’s being, and instead he can just moan thoughtlessly and focus on trying to shove his chest up into the contact as Bucky sucks at his nipple a little harder.

Bucky drags his mouth across Tony’s chest, fixing his lips over the other nipple and dragging another keening moan out of Tony as his arms shake and threaten to give out from under him. His hips jerk against the pressure of Bucky’s hand still pressed against his hip, pinning him firmly in place against the table while Bucky sucks a mark into his chest.

“You got the prettiest tits baby, I can’t wait to play with these more,” Bucky croons against his throbbing skin, and Tony flushes hotter, whining and gasping as Bucky’s teeth catch on his nipple just a little harder.

It doesn’t make catching his breath any easier on Tony when Bucky starts slowly kissing and biting his way down Tony’s chest, but Tony at least manages to steady his arms and shove himself up a little higher so he can watch in dazed awe as Bucky’s gorgeous lips press against the twitching muscles of his stomach.

Bucky glances up at him with eyes gone dark and hungry as he closes his teeth on the skin of Tony’s hip in a sharp bite. It’s exactly the same spot he’d left a mark last week, just above the waist of Tony’s jeans, right where Tony hadn’t been able to resist pressing his fingers into the bruise.

Tony groans at the memory as much as the feeling and he barely even notices Bucky working his jeans open until they’re being tugged down past his hips. Even with his underwear still in place, the rush of cool air against his cock has Tony shaking, straining against Bucky’s hold on his hip. His cock twitches again when Bucky cups it in one wide hand and squeezes slightly, throbbing and leaking.

“This for me?” Bucky asks over Tony’s loud moan, other hand tightening on Tony’s hip when he tries to arch into the contact, tries to get any sort of relief for the fire that’s burning through his veins.

“Yes sir,” Tony gasps out, cock twitching again as Bucky lets out a low, satisfied hum that hangs in the air between them, heated and thick, and his legs shake as Bucky’s palm shifts against him again, giving one more squeeze before sliding away.

Tony’s whine of protest is cut off as Bucky leans in to mouth wetly at the head of his cock through the fabric of his briefs, and it’s only Bucky’s firm grip on his hips that keeps Tony from bucking forward. Bucky’s fingers dig into his skin a little harder as he drags his lips down the length of Tony’s cock, his breath _so warm_ even through the layer of fabric between them, _so close,_ and Tony is completely helpless against the loud moans that spill out of him.

A small part of Tony wonders if Bucky will ever stop catching him off guard so completely, but it’s quickly buried by another crashing wave of arousal as Bucky returns to sucking at the already damp fabric over the head of his cock. Tony lets out another stuttering, whining gasp as he continues trying to rock his hips forward and every time Bucky’s solid grip on his hips holds him easily in place.

Bucky doesn’t pull away until Tony’s head is _spinning_ and his briefs are _soaked_ with spit and precum, clinging to his cock as Tony shifts and whines. He can’t even be of much help as Bucky carefully removes his shoes and socks before tugging the remainder of Tony’s clothes off, just lifts one foot and then the other when Bucky directs him to and leans heavily against the table behind him for balance.

By the time he’s fully naked Tony is nearly shaking with desperation, legs weak and heart hamming in his chest, and he makes another breathless pleading sound as Bucky leans in to press his lips to Tony’s hip.

“Fuck baby, smell so _good,”_ Bucky groans against his skin, trailing messy kisses ever closer to Tony’s cock and holding him in place with one hand spread wide over the curve of Tony’s ass. Bucky looks up at him with a smirk, making Tony’s already ragged breath catch in his chest, and then orders “Tell me when you’re close.”

Tony has just enough time to process that before Bucky takes his cock into his mouth, all the way to the base in one smooth, wet slide that rips a shout from Tony’s chest, shocked and _deliriously_ turned on.

_“Bucky,”_ he whines and his hips jerk before he can stop himself, but instead of tightening his hold Bucky just lets him move, using his hand on Tony’s ass to pull him in closer. Tony gasps, elbows slipping a little and forcing his back into an ever sharper arch as he struggles to roll his hips again, chasing the wet heat of Bucky’s mouth as he starts to withdraw, starts to bob his head and completely take Tony apart.

The gasps and moaning whines don’t stop falling from Tony’s lips as Bucky continues working his mouth over Tony’s cock, sucking him down to the base and then pulling back to tongue at the slit until Tony’s legs are shaking under the onslaught of pleasure. He can already feel his orgasm winding him up tightly, panting for breath and groaning again as Bucky starts working his way back down, all wet heat and maddening flicks of his tongue.

“S-sir, I-I, I’m gonna, ah! I—” Tony barely manages to gasp out, pressure in his gut churning, about to snap, and then he all but shouts as Bucky pulls back and grips tightly at the base of Tony’s cock, stopping his orgasm just before it can crash over him. Tony’s arms slip out from under him with how hard he jolts, but before he even has time to go tumbling backwards across the table Bucky’s arms are winding around him.

Tony whines weakly at the light kisses Bucky presses all across his face, still shaking as his blood rushes loudly in his ears. He barely even notices the room spinning around him as Bucky carefully turns and lowers him down onto the table completely, too busy panting and clinging with numb fingers. All Tony really cares about is Bucky’s hands still sliding over his skin, Bucky’s lips on his cheek, the way _none_ of it is helping with the fire still burning under his skin.

“Good job baby, you did so good,” Bucky breathes out against his temple, then presses a kiss into his hair when Tony whines at the fresh twist of arousal in his stomach, the happy clench of his heart at the fact that he was _good._ “You got the prettiest cock baby,” Bucky says, pressing one more kiss to Tony’s flushed face before pulling away, “Thank you for letting me have a taste, I’ve been dreaming about that for weeks.”

Tony forces his eyes open just enough to make sure he doesn’t miss as he reaches out to tangle his fingers in Bucky’s soft hair again, struggling to catch his breath under the force of the needy anticipation that has his blood singing in his veins, under the weight of Bucky’s heated stare.

“Kiss,” Tony pleads, tugging gently at Bucky’s hair to try and pull him in closer, but his voice comes out almost demanding and Tony hurries to add “Please sir?”

It’s clingy, and _weak,_ Tony knows it, but before the embarrassed shame can do more than start to twist up in his chest Bucky is leaning in and kissing him hard, deep and hungry until Tony’s head is spinning with it. He’s breathless by the time Bucky pulls away, chest warm and full and Tony just smiles dopily at him, so close to forgetting what he was worried about in the first place.

“I’m gonna tie you up baby and then we’re gonna get started, okay?” Bucky asks, smiling back as he runs his fingers through Tony’s hair, and Tony nods eagerly.

He lets his eyes fall closed, dragging in a deep breath to try and calm the arousal still churning through his entire body before he lifts his arms and rests them on the table above his head, near where he knows the tie off points are. Tony makes a soft, surprised noise when Bucky kisses him again, harder, _hungrier,_ but Tony wastes no time arching up into it eagerly.

“So fuckin perfect for me baby,” Bucky growls against his lips, warm and low and punctuated with a drag of his teeth over Tony’s lower lip.

_Perfect,_ it’s not the first time Bucky has said it but it throws Tony every time, leaves him whining with embarrassment and desperate _want_ because he knows he’s not but Bucky makes him _want_ to be.

All too soon Bucky pulls away and Tony’s eyes flutter open again to sight of Bucky running the silk bindings through his hands thoughtfully. Tony bites his lip and fights down the need to shift restlessly and chase any hint of contact that he can get as Bucky secures him to the table with efficient, confident motions, pausing just long enough to steal his hair tie back from Tony’s wrist with a small grin.

“Remember, you can and _should_ tell me if anything hurts or feels like it’s going numb,” Bucky says firmly once he’s done and Tony nods again, giving his arms an experimental tug and then letting out a hard breath when he finds very little wiggle room.

It’s not quite the same as being bound up in the rope, but it’s more than enough to have Tony’s cock twitching and bobbing in the air and he swallows hard as he watches Bucky set a burning candle by Tony’s bare hip, _just_ close enough that Tony can barely feel the tantalizing heat of it.

Tony recognizes it as one of the candles he had JARVIS order last week, made for this exact reason and slightly different than the other burning candles scattered around the room. Tony had mostly been amused when Bucky was going around lighting all of them, but now, spread out and helpless with the rest of the lights turned down low, he can’t deny that it makes the room feel cozy and intimate and _heated._

And he’s _definitely_ not complaining about the way the flickering light catches in Bucky’s hair as he begins pulling it back, the way the moving shadows accentuate the lines of Bucky’s thick muscles as he lowers his arms again.

“You feeling good baby?” Bucky asks as he moves on to rolling up his sleeves, and there’s a slight smirk on his face that says he absolutely sees the way Tony avidly watches him do it, his pulse jumping a little higher with every new inch of skin that’s exposed. Tony barely remembers to nod as he shifts restlessly on the table, against the silk bindings, and Bucky’s voice drops a little lower as he says “Good, that’s good.”

Tony continues squirming in place as Bucky checks on the rest of the things he’s set up, which looks a lot like the same set up he’d had at the hotel right up until Bucky lifts a large bandage from the table, and he grins when Tony feels his face crease in confusion.

“Figured we could use this to cover the reactor so wax doesn’t get on it,” Bucky says in explanation, and waits for Tony’s nod before leaning in to actually line it up.

Tony bites his lip as he forces himself to hold still _without_ going obviously tense all over. He may have gotten used to the constant weight and pressure of the arc reactor after all these years, hell he even manages to forget about it every now and then, but he’s still not exactly in the habit of letting people near it unless he _has_ to. Bucky is quick and efficient though, hands sure as he tapes down the edges of the bandage without lingering over the reactor or the scars.

Tony manages a small smile as Bucky grabs _another_ bandage and starts fixing it over the first one, familiar paranoia fading away a little under the wave of fondness. He considers reminding Bucky that he has basically no feeling in the surrounding scars, there’s really no reason to be _this_ careful, but the look of careful concentration on Bucky’s face is kind of adorable and Tony would hate to interrupt him.

It probably shouldn’t be surprising at this point, how considerate Bucky is, but it still has a ball of warmth growing in Tony’s chest that he doesn’t quite feel up to trying to talk around.

So Tony just watches him silently, and it’s surprisingly easy to keep his breathing steady and calm as Bucky smooths his fingers along the bandage tape one last time before pulling away. Bucky grabs a small bottle from his collection of things on the table and pours what looks like some kind of oil into his palm.

He smiles when he looks up and catches Tony watching him, and he rubs the oil between his palms as he says “I’m gonna get your skin nice and slick so when I start pouring wax on you it’s easier to get off.”

Tony honestly hadn’t given much thought to getting the wax _off,_ but that sounds like a pretty enjoyable plan, so he hums and lets his eyes fall closed, relaxes against the table and does his best to ignore the demanding throb of his cock.

Bucky starts with his foot, which is a little unexpected, but Tony certainly isn’t going to complain about a spontaneous foot massage. Instead he just keeps his eyes shut and lets himself enjoy it, shuddering and twitching against the smooth silk holding him in place as Bucky’s thumbs press into the bottom of his foot with perfect _aching_ pressure.

He kind of loses track of time as Bucky moves slowly up his leg, equally focused on rubbing the oil into his skin and working the knots out of Tony’s muscles. By the time Bucky’s strong fingers are working at his thigh Tony can feel himself already starting to melt into the padded surface of the table, groaning softly as Bucky’s hands slide a little higher up his leg.

Tony gasps when Bucky’s slick hand closes around his cock, stroking him slow and firm while Tony’s hips buck up and he bites his lip against the startled moan that tries to burst out of him. All too soon Bucky pulls his hand away and Tony groans pitifully as he rocks his hips up again, trying in vain to chase the mind-numbing pleasure that Bucky wrings out of him.

“Hang in there baby, we’ve got a long way to go,” Bucky says sweetly as he strokes metal fingers over Tony’s hip, like he doesn’t _know_ that it just works Tony up harder rather than soothe him in any way.

Tony’s attempt at an annoyed expression feels more desperate than anything, just makes Bucky smirk wider, so he drops his head back against the table again with a groan and then huffs out a weak laugh as he accuses _“Mean.”_

He gasps when Bucky pinches his hip and then lifts his head again with a disgruntled sound, only to freeze in place at the smile on Bucky’s face. It’s wide and toothy, and Tony doesn’t think he’s ever described something as _‘wolffish’_ before but he can’t think of any other way to describe that look and it has him swallowing hard as his gut gives another hard clench, the arousal swirling through him rising higher.

“Darlin, you haven’t even _seen_ me be mean yet,” Bucky says in a voice that’s low and full of promise, and apparently the way Tony’s stomach swoops shows on his face because Bucky’s voice is embarrassingly knowing as he drawls “Oh, maybe you _want_ me to be a little mean?”

The answering throb of Tony’s aching cock definitely gives away _exactly_ what he thinks of that idea, and Tony is probably more surprised than anyone at just _how badly_ he wants to find out exactly what Bucky has in mind. How _not_ terrifying he finds the prospect of what Bucky considers _‘mean.’_

Tony is pretty sure it’s not anything near what his previous doms would consider _‘mean’,_ and there’s something enticing about the way Bucky says it. Something that makes Tony want to know _more._

He doesn’t have to wait long either, because Bucky only pauses long enough to slick up his hands with more oil and start on Tony’s other foot before suggesting “Maybe you want me to tie you up and watch you struggle while you have a vibrating plug inside that pretty hole?” He grins wider when Tony makes a breathless sound, bucking his hips again, and his voice is practically a growl as he says “Yea, you like that.”

“Yes sir,” Tony gasps out weakly, because there’s really no way he can deny it at this point, and then shudders at the brief hint of Bucky’s teeth against the delicate skin beside his knee.

Bucky’s strong hands continue working their way up his leg and Tony struggles to keep his breathing even as fog begins to crowd into the corners of his mind, turning his thoughts to warm taffy as he sinks slowly but surely into the haze of subspace. All he has to focus on is Bucky’s calloused fingers digging into his muscle, the addictive counterpoint of the smooth metal fingertips of Bucky’s other hand and the warm intimacy of the dimly lit room around them.

Tony gasps when Bucky’s fingers slide a little further up his thigh and then close around his cock again, stroking him slowly while Bucky massages and rolls his balls with skin-warmed metal fingers. Tony is barely aware of the sweat beginning to bead on his skin, the way it has him alternately sticking and sliding against the surface of the table as he continues writhing in place, trying desperately to arch up into the contact, to get _more._

He doesn’t even have time to pout about Bucky pulling away again before Bucky is moving on, hands spread wide over Tony’s stomach as he continues working the oil into Tony’s skin. Tony tips his chin down with a soft whine, forcing his eyes open so he can take in the sight of Bucky’s hands slowly moving up to his heaving chest. He ends up caught up staring at Bucky’s face instead, the hint color spreading across his cheeks and the way his pupils are blown out wide and dark, and Tony moans softly as he continues rocking his hips uselessly into the empty air, so turned on that he can feel the throb of his cock in his _spine._

Bucky pours a little more oil into his hands and then returns to rubbing them over Tony’s chest, the drag of Bucky's palms over his nipples making Tony's breath hitch. When Bucky's fingers close over his already peaked nipples, pinching and tugging, Tony arches his chest up into the contact, gasping sharply as pleasure rushes through him hot and insistent until his head is swimming with it.

Tony is left panting heavily when Bucky's hands slide away again, going limp against the table as sparks of pleasure continue to race down his spine. Every inch of him feels over sensitized by the press of Bucky's fingers and Tony can hear his heartbeat echoing in his ears, his entire body throbbing in time.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” Bucky says softly, stroking a hand across his thigh to get his attention, and Tony hadn't even realized his eyes had fallen shut again. He pries them open and has to blink a couple times before he actually manages to focus on Bucky's face, smiling a little helplessly as he meets Bucky's dark gaze and Bucky smiles back, crooning “There you are gorgeous.”

Heat floods through Tony again and he’s _burning_ with it, squirming into the table and tugging lightly at the restraints just to feel them hold him fast. His stomach gives another hard clench of arousal as he realizes Bucky has picked up the candle again, his heavy gaze moving slow and intent over Tony's flushed skin, like he's making a plan of attack.

“We’re going to start now, but if you don’t like it, I want you to tell me right away, okay?” Bucky says firmly, eyes fixing on Tony's face and once he meets them Tony finds he can't look away, “I don’t want you trying to power through something because you think you have to or because you think it’s what I want.”

“Yes sir,” Tony says and then nods when his voice comes out weak and breathy, hoping Bucky can see on his face how much he means it. The thought of Bucky going home feeling like he did something wrong, doubting that he's the best dom Tony never would have even _thought_ to hope for, makes something in Tony's chest clench painfully. It's unacceptable, is what it is, so he continues meeting Bucky's eyes earnestly as he adds “I promise to be honest.”

Apparently he manages to be convincing, to get across just how serious he is, because Bucky smiles softly and leans in to kiss him again, Bucky's lips so gentle and sweet against his that it steals what little breath Tony has left.

“Good boy,” Bucky breathes out, lips brushing against Tony’s with each word, and then nudges their noses together while Tony shudders with pleased warmth. Bucky presses one more brief kiss to Tony’s lips, then stands up straight as he lifts the candle again and says “Here we go baby.”

Tony rolls his hips again with an eager whine, arching his back in a silent plea. It's a struggle to keep his eyes open under the force of the anticipation winding him up tight, but he doesn't want to miss it as Bucky holds the candle over Tony's stomach and slowly tips it just enough to let three small drops fall.

The wax lands in a neat little line, and even though he watched them fall each drop has startlingly intense heat bursting across his skin, has Tony's eyes flying open wide as he cries out breathily and thrashes against the silk restraints. Just as quickly as it started the bright heat fades away, too quickly to be properly painful and instead Tony melts into the table again with a low moan as the wax leaves behind a tingling warmth that spreads beneath his skin to settle low in his hips.

_"More,"_ Tony gasps out mindlessly as he continues shifting restlessly against the padded table, his cock throbbing and bobbing in the air and _oh god_ it's so much more intense than he expected, so much _more—_

He moans louder as more drops of wax land on his stomach, slightly larger than the first, and Tony writhes in place as he feels his skin twitch with each new burst of sensation. The low burn in his veins spikes higher with each short spark of heat, continuing to build even as the wax cools and settles against his skin. It's just on the edge of _too much,_ too hot, he's too sensitive after being brought to the edge by Bucky's mouth and then thoroughly caressed by Bucky's strong hands and Tony is shaking under the force of it, head spinning as every nerve tingles with pleasure.

“Damn baby, you look like a dream,” Bucky says with a shaking sigh, his hand steady as he moves the candle and tips it again, letting more wax drip down over the curve of Tony’s hip. The heavy drops slide down to puddle and cool on the sensitive skin of his pelvis, and Tony lets out a deep groan as his cock throbs, leaking heavily and even that almost feels _too warm_ as it slides down his cock to pool on his skin.

“Please, please sir,” Tony gasps out around heaving breaths, twisting and writhing in place, arching his back and bucking his hips as he tries to get _more,_ tries to get any relief for the pressure building inside him. It feels like it takes forever to get his eyes to focus, his thoughts gone slow and hazy, but when he finally manages it Tony shudders all over at the soft smile on Bucky's face, the way it's at odds with the dark, hungry look in his eyes. Even Tony’s own voice sounds like it's coming from a long ways away as he whines out “Bucky—“

Tony cuts himself off with a moan when Bucky spills more wax onto his stomach, slowly drawing a line up the center of his torso to the edge of the bandage and with every drop Tony thrashes harder, sweat beading on his skin and making it all the easier to writhe against the table as near constant moans spill from his lips. Bucky pauses just long enough for Tony to drag in a couple of ragged gasps, then pours more lines of wax across his chest, one after the other until Tony loses track, just moaning and shaking with it. Every bright-hot point of wax pushes the burn inside him higher and it doesn’t fade with the heat of the wax, just builds and builds until Tony is sure he’s going to burst.

“God baby, so pretty,” Bucky croons and reaches out with his free hand to close his fingers around Tony’s nipple. The metal of his fingers is a sharp, cool contrast to the heat swirling through Tony's body, intense pleasure jolting straight down to his core, and it drags a shaking whine out of Tony's chest as he arches up into the contact.

Bucky is merciless as he pinches and rolls Tony's nipple between his smooth, cool fingertips, just playing with him lazily until Tony can feel every tug like it's connected directly to his cock, burning all the way through him. Tony is only dimly aware that he's leaking constantly now, skin of his stomach slick with it as he continues shifting helplessly, caught in place and _burning._

"Please," Tony chokes out, and then keens when Bucky's fingers shift over to his other nipple, twisting and plucking while Tony writhes and bucks his hips into the air uselessly. The pressure inside him is already building, winding him up tight until Tony can’t think about anything else, he's _floating_ on it, and he presses his head back against the table as he whines "More, Bucky, Bucky _please- Ah!"_

Just as Tony feels his desperation reach a fevered pitch, like he's seconds away from shattering apart under Bucky's clever fingers they’re suddenly gone and replaced with hot wax. Tony's shaking cry is nearly drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears as his entire body jolts, the unexpected heat of the wax overwhelming on his already oversensitive nipples. The sharply sweet pleasure of it goes straight to his cock and Tony thrashes in place with another weak sob of Bucky's name, eyes fixed unseeing on the ceiling as his cock twitches and spills more pre cum on to his stomach and _oh fuck_ he's already so close to the edge, he just needs a little more, but he doesn't know if he's allowed—

Bucky says something but it doesn't register past the way Tony's entire body is _throbbing_ with need, past the gentle brush of Bucky's palm over the top of his thigh. With every twitch of his aching cock Tony worries that he's going to tumble over the edge and he squeezes his eyes shut, drags in deep, shaking breaths as he tries to get himself under control, tries to be _good._

“You close?” Bucky asks softly and the way his fingertips dip a little further along the inside of Tony’s thigh is _not_ helping, all Tony can manage is a moan and a weak nod as he swallows thickly, feeling only a _little_ less close to shattering apart. “Can you give me a color?” Bucky asks as his thumb drags over Tony’s hip, and Tony shakes all over.

Tony has to put a lot of effort into getting his hazy thoughts into any semblance of order, panting heavily and licking his lips before he finally forces his eyes open. Actually _focusing_ is an all new battle, but once he manages it he fixes Bucky with a dazed smile, his gut clenching and it's _so hard_ to think past the burn beneath his skin, the haze of his mind, but Bucky asked him a question.

“Green sir, so so green,” he breathes out, biting his lip hard for a second as another shudder works its way through him and now that he's looking he can’t tear his eyes away from Bucky’s face, stomach clenching as he arches a little harder against the restraints.

With every shift and twitch he can feel every drop of wax that’s cooled and settled on his skin, like countless little points of contact. Like lingering touches that simultaneously ground him and push him _higher,_ and when Tony writhes again it’s just to feel the slight pull of the dried wax on his skin.

“Feels... _amazing,”_ Tony sighs as he rolls his hips up into Bucky’s touch. His throat is already raw from all the ragged gasping and moaning, but that doesn't matter nearly as much as working up the air to whine “Please... more?”

With a softly growled curse Bucky leans down to kiss him and pleasure sings through Tony's entire body, until he feels like every inch of him is electrified and if he doesn't do _something_ Tony is a little worried he'll bum away entirely. So he kisses Bucky back as hard as he can, licking at Bucky's lower lip before dragging his teeth over it and then moaning when Bucky's metal fingers tangle tightly in his hair. Bucky uses that grip to pin Tony's head back against the table and _devour_ him, kissing him and _kissing him_ until Tony's mouth feels _bruised_ with it. His moans come out muffled and wet, lost in the tingling drag of Bucky's lips against his own, the bolt of pleasure that runs through him at the sharp press of Bucky's teeth against his lower lip.

He’s left whining pitifully when Bucky finally pulls away, even the rush of air from his panting breaths over his swollen, throbbing lips almost _too much_ and all he wants is _more._ Tony doesn't even realize Bucky has released his hair until metal fingers are tracing his lips and he wastes no time closing his lips around them, sucking them a little further into his mouth.

“Fuck baby, you look so good like this,” Bucky says roughly and Tony hums as a heady warmth spreads through him at the praise, “So pretty suckin on my fingers like that.”

Tony groans softly and sucks harder, blinking his eyes open as much as he can manage and focusing them on Bucky as he flicks his tongue over the smooth pads of Bucky's fingers, mouth watering as he chases the rough growl that rumbles in Bucky's chest. A third metal finger presses between his lips and Tony moans louder, stomach twisting as Bucky pulls his mouth open a little wider and Tony can feel drool sliding down his cheek.

Bucky’s eyes are _so dark_ as he watches Tony press his tongue up against the length of Bucky’s fingers, trying to close his lips around them a little tighter, and when Bucky presses his fingers a little deeper towards the back of his mouth Tony lets out another ragged, garbled moan.

His head spins and throbs with how turned on he is, with how much he _loves it._ His jaw aches and he can feel himself drooling uncontrollably around Bucky’s fingers, embarrassment and shame and the greedy hunger for _more_ twisting around inside him with every needy, _slutty_ moan that spills out of him. His gut writhes at the feeling of being used, his cock twitching and leaking in time with the throb of his pulse and it’s almost _overwhelming_ how much he _wants it._

“ _Fuck_ ,” Bucky says with a rough groan and slowly pulls his fingers free, dragging them wetly over Tony’s lip before wiping them on his cheek and Tony moans weakly at the possessive gesture, still aching for _more._

He wants to be marked further, wants to be _covered_ in Bucky’s marks, wants the evidence that he’s _Bucky’s_ baby, his good boy, his _toy_.

Tony pants raggedly for breath, his mouth still hanging open stupidly and his head spinning, floating on the constant onslaught of sensation. When Bucky pours more wax out onto each of his nipples Tony doesn’t try to fight the full-bodied shout that bursts out of him, head tipping back against the table as he arches and his eyes fall closed again, the sound trailing off into a lingering moan as Bucky continues dripping wax along his chest, back down to his stomach.

“You look like a painting doll,” Bucky says, voice low and rough and his hand still impossibly steady as he lets a couple drops of wax fall on Tony’s hip before moving further down. Fat drops of wax fall on the sensitive skin of Tony’s inner thigh and he nearly _sobs_ out a weak, broken sound, his entire body shaking with it.

The burn beneath his skin just keeps building without any relief but it's still not enough to completely drown out the heat that floods his cheeks at the sweet words, and Tony turns his head to try and hide his face against his arm, panting and whining as another shudder runs through him.

“You do baby, you look like heaven, like something that belongs in one of them fancy art galleries for everyone to marvel over,” Bucky insists, and Tony moans again as his cock gives another hard throb, spilling more precum onto his stomach.

Tony is only distantly aware that he’s drenched in sweat at this point, hair clinging to his forehead and skin of his pelvis extra slick from his leaking cock. Mostly all he can feel is the stiff drops of wax clinging to his skin, the bright-hot- _amazing_ bursts of sensation as Bucky continues dripping wax down his leg, the burn of his throat as constant moans spill out of him. He’s floating, he’s _melting,_ and the unrelenting pressure just keeps building inside him, carrying him _higher._

“Baby... baby... you look so good,” Bucky says and Tony struggles to focus on it past the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears, the deep groan that tears out of his chest as Bucky catches Tony’s foot in his free hand and presses his thumb into the arch. Tony shudders against the restraints again, still moaning breathlessly as Bucky begins dripping wax up his other leg with a low murmur of “Sound so pretty baby, moaning for me like that.”

Another sobbing moan tears it’s way out of Tony as he writhes against the table, unsure what he’s even trying to accomplish anymore. He’s trying to get away, he’s trying to get _closer,_ it’s right on the edge of too much and _fuck_ he just wants _more._ He whines softly and arches into it shakily as Bucky’s fingers swipe over his stomach, through the growing pool of precum on his stomach.

Tony forces his eyes open just in time to watch Bucky press his metal finger between his own lips with a soft groan, his eyes dark as he watches Tony back.

The clench of Tony's heart in his chest is almost enough to drown out the hard twist of desperate arousal in his stomach and he rolls his hips up with another low whine. He can't get enough of the way Bucky looks at him, full of want and _awe_ and even through the warm pleasured fog that's filling his head Tony apparently still has enough brainpower to be blown away by it, to swear to himself that he'll do whatever it takes to _keep_ earning that look.

He can be good, he _can._

His breath catches in anticipation as Bucky tips the candle again, and when the next line of wax is drawn up his stomach Tony throws his head back into the table again, writhing and moaning for all he's worth. The heat under his skin builds impossibly _hotter,_ until Tony doesn't know how he hasn't already snapped, how he hasn't already burned away entirely.

He’s only held together by the smooth silk that's also holding him in place, the countless points of dried wax on his skin and the fact that _oh god_ Tony just wants to be _good._

The fall of wax on his skin pauses, bright sparks of sensation fading away slowly, and Tony takes the chance to try and catch his breath with wet, shaking gasps. His head is a disjointed mess of sensation, the spots of heat on his skin and the bubbling warmth beneath it, the drag of Bucky’s cool fingertips over his flushed chest, the rapid beat of his heart and the distant throb of his cock. The silk around his wrists and the weightlessness that’s wrapped all around him, fogging his mind until he can’t do anything but _feel._

After waiting seconds or _hours_ for the next drops of wax, skin twitching in anticipation, Tony forces his eyes open again, cursing himself for letting them fall shut in the first place and terrified for a split second that he’s going to find himself _alone._

Instead finds that Bucky is simply standing still beside the table with his own eyes closed, flesh fingers curled tightly around the candle as he drags in deep, uneven breaths. Tony feels the tiniest curl of fear in his chest, his head clearing just enough to wonder if maybe he did something wrong, but there's something soft about Bucky's expression, something incredibly flattering in the way he can see Bucky's throat work as he swallows thickly.

Like just maybe Tony is doing something exactly _right._

_"Bucky,"_ he moans out before he can stop himself, doesn't want to be demanding but _fuck_ he feels like he's _dying,_ like he's seconds away from coming or just _exploding_ from the pressure building inside him. He’s so close to falling apart entirely without Bucky's hands on him, without Bucky's _eyes_ on him, feels like he might just float away.

When Bucky's eyes fly open again they’re impossibly _darker,_ the ice blue of his gaze completely swallowed up by the dark of his pupils. Tony barely has time to arch up with another pleading whine before Bucky is lurching forwards, leaning down to kiss him again, soft and sweet and Tony groans quietly at the feeling of Bucky pushing his messy hair back off of his forehead.

“Fuck... Tony... you’re so perfect for me honey,” Bucky says, his voice low and rough and his lips still brushing against Tony's with every word.

Tony sobs out another soft sound as Bucky nudges their noses together gently, his heart lurching and a pleased warmth spreading through his chest, overwhelming everything else.

“For you,” Tony manages to slur out with a small attempt at a nod, because he can't quite bring himself to agree but _god_ does he want to be good, wants to be _perfect._ More than he can ever remember wanting it.

He tips his chin up a little further, trying to chase the feeling of Bucky’s lips against his own, and then hums happily when Buday shifts from mouthing along his jaw and kisses him again, firm and deep and _intoxicating._

“Perfect baby, you’re perfect,” Bucky whispers, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, and Tony whimpers low in the back of his throat as the praise sends a hard shudder down his spine, “My sweet baby, you look like a dream.”

Bucky pulls back and Tony can’t even argue, can’t remember why he _should,_ so he just smiles dopily and lets the overwhelming pride in his chest swell through his entire body. Perfect, someone thinks he’s _perfect,_ and Tony’s head spins with it, smiling even wider as Bucky smiles back at him, leans down to press a final kiss to the corner of Tony’s lips.

“You wanna come baby?” Bucky asks, and then smirks when Tony instantly bobs his head in a disjointed nod, whining pleadingly because he’s not sure he can actually manage words as his gut gives another almost painful twist, the demanding throb of his arousal bursting back to the forefront of his hazy mind. “Okay sweetheart,” Bucky says soothingly, pushing Tony’s hair away from his forehead again, “You just lay there and take it, my good boy, and you can come whenever you want.”

_“Thank you sir,”_ Tony sighs out, voice rough and his entire body throbbing with need and he’s been _good,_ heart tripping all over itself because he’s Bucky’s _good boy_ and Tony is sure if he could work up the energy he’d be writhing against the table as happiness swell almost too huge in his chest.

All he can do is roll his hips weakly with another soft moan, cock still leaking heavily onto his stomach and at this point his entire body feels covered in sweat and precum and wax. Bucky’s stare is heated but still _so soft_ as it drags over Tony’s shivering frame, and Tony’s breath catches at the way Bucky’s blown out pupils catch the flickering candlelight, burning with intensity, everything _too much_ and _not enough_ all at once.

Tony is breathless with anticipation as Bucky raises the candle again, arching weakly as the insistent throb of arousal and need under his skin pushes impossibly higher. Time stretches out slow and elastic around him as he watches the first couple drops of wax fall so slowly towards his skin, and when they land on his stomach Tony gasps sharply, his head spinning as bright bursts of burning, _amazing_ sensation sing along all his nerves again.

The next drops fall on his nipples, less sharp heat and more soothing warmth through the layers of wax already built up on his skin and Tony groans weakly, straining against the silk ties in an effort to push his chest up into the feeling.

His head is spinning with it, floating on the waves of pleasure as they crash over him, pull him under, until all he knows is heat and pleasure and _Bucky._ The warm red walls of the room begin to swim around him and Tony loses the fight to keep his eyes open, clenching them shut as Bucky draws another line of wax down his chest and it’s _overwhelming,_ it’s _so much,_ it has Tony’s next shaking moan coming out as nearly a sob.

With his eyes closed the only warning he gets is Bucky’s metal fingers digging into the muscle of his thigh, and then wax is falling on his inner thigh in fat drops that run down the sensitive skin in breathtaking trails of sensation before cooling.

Tony _burns,_ gasping and crying out and his entire world narrows down to Bucky’s fingers on him, the way it feels like every spot of wax in another fingertip pressed against his skin.

He’s still thrashing and moaning when Bucky switches to the other thigh, more wax dripping down Tony’s skin, then small drops along the crease of his thigh, moving ever closer to Tony’s cock as it twitches in the air and leaks harder.

The air of the room is thick around them, feels _heavy_ against Tony’s tingling skin, thick enough that Tony can _feel_ the rumble of Bucky’s low growl like it’s vibrating against his skin. Tony sobs out a broken sound and tosses his head back against the table, the burning pressure inside him almost _unbearable._ His cock throbs again, every muscle pulling tight as the drops of wax continue to fall on his skin, moving closer, _closer._

If Tony is still making noise he’s lost track of it, drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears and if he doesn’t snap soon he might just burn away entirely.

“Come for me,” Bucky orders, firm and low and _growling,_ and Tony isn’t even aware that his next sobbing breath comes out as an actual word until Bucky groans softly and demands “Say it again, my name, say it.”

_“Bucky!”_ Tony moans, loud and shameless and more than a little slurred as the next drops of wax fall even closer to his balls, _so close,_ heat and pleasure and need swelling inside him until he _can’t take it,_ “Bucky Bucky Bucky- _ah—“_

Tony cuts off with a ragged moan as he _finally_ comes, shaking with the force of it, _soaring_ on the relief that rushes through him along with the pressure in his gut _finally_ bursting free.

His throat feels raw but all Tony can hear is static, all he can feel is the throb of his cock echoing through his entire body. What little brainpower he had left is officially gone, whiting out completely as his cock continues to throb, spilling pulse after pulse of cum across his stomach, making an even bigger mess of him.

The sensation fades slowly and leaves him heaving for breath, aftershocks and lingering pleasure zinging across his nerves while Tony just floats on it. He barely even registers his name being said, brain still full of warm cotton and static, and then Bucky is gently cupping his cheek and turning Tony's head to face him.

Tony’s stomach gives a painful, too-soon clench of arousal at the sight of Bucky’s cock clenched in his metal fingers, hard and flushed an angry red, _so thick._

“Can I use your mouth baby?” Bucky asks, desperation in his voice turning it into almost a _plea_ and Tony nods jerkily, mouth already falling open wide with a ragged, pleading moan.

He might be a pile of raw, liquid nerves, but he _wants it._ Tony wants to taste him again, wants to feel the thick weight of Bucky’s cock in his mouth, wants to be _used._ He wants that swell of _pride_ from Bucky using his mouth to get off, knowing Bucky wants him so badly, that he’s been _good._

Tony doesn't even have to beg, barely has time to let out a needy whine before Bucky is pressing closer, the head of his cock nudging briefly against Tony’s lip before pressing deep. It drags warm and thick over Tony’s tongue and he groans softly as the heady taste of Bucky’s skin and precum fills his mouth, making it water.

Bucky echoes the groan and slides his fingers around the back of Tony’s head, holding him in place as Bucky rolls his hips, presses himself a little deeper. Tony can _feel_ the throb of Bucky’s cock in the back of his throat and he lets out a muffled moan as his own cock gives a final aching twitch, spilling a little more.

“Fuck baby, m’not gonna last,” Bucky gasps out breathlessly, the sound nearly a sob, then tightens his fingers in Tony’s hair and fucks into his mouth harder.

It’s _so easy_ for Tony to sink into it, to float _higher._ He loses himself in the back and forth of Bucky’s cock past his lips, nudging at the back of his throat, drooling around the thick weight of it and letting his eyes fall closed. He’s still hazy and tingly from his orgasm and the sound of Bucky’s breathless groans, the scent of him filling Tony’s head, it all combines to keep Tony lost in the overwhelming onslaught of sensation.

“You like this huh?” Bucky demands in a rough growl, and Tony moans around him as his stomach gives another clench, “Like me using your pretty mouth to get off?”

Tony barely manages a weak nod as he lets out another choked sound of agreement, forcing himself to think past the warm haze he’s falling deeper into just enough to force his eyes open. His head is spinning, eyes wet with overstimulation as he meets Bucky’s heated stare, and Tony hopes it shows on his face _just_ _how much_ he likes it.

He likes the tremor of Bucky’s fingers in his hair, the catch in Bucky’s breath as he thrusts into Tony’s mouth faster, harder, chasing his own pleasure with obvious desperation. All Tony can do is lay limply in the hold of the restraints, like he’s just here to be used, and it’s _such a rush_ after the firm, patient control Bucky displays while he’s breaking Tony completely apart.

Spit and precum spill from the corners of Tony’s lips despite his attempt to keep them closed tightly around Bucky’s cock, to be _good,_ and Tony does his best to plead with his eyes because he _wants it—_

_”Fuck,”_ Bucky growls as he curls down closer around Tony, the roll of his hips gone quick and disjointed, and Tony moans out more garbled sounds as his gut clenches painfully, the sounds of Bucky’s groans and ragged breaths echoing in his ears.

He can feel the throb of Bucky’s cock against his tongue, the heat and taste of him overwhelming and Tony drools harder as Bucky roughly fucks his mouth. Every time the head of Bucky’s cock nudges the back of his throat Tony lets out another wet moan, nearly gagging around it and shuddering at the weak sob that bursts out of Bucky’s chest as his cock throbs and swells and begins to spill across Tony’s tongue.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Bucky grits out, practically a snarl, and Tony moans again when Bucky’s fingers tighten in his hair, holding him in place as Bucky thrusts in deep, coming down his throat while Tony moans and shakes and struggles to swallow around him, “Tony... fuck, _Tony.”_

Tony’s head goes completely fuzzy again, pleasure swelling huge under his skin again and Tony just lets himself float on the knowledge that he made Bucky come, the taste of it thick and heady as it floods his mouth.

He wants to open his eyes, wants to see the look on Bucky’s face, hasn’t been able to _stop_ thinking about the way Bucky had looked when he came during their last scene, flushed and panting and _gorgeous._

But opening his eyes seems like _so much work,_ way more than Tony’s disconnected brain can manage right now, floaty and hazy and he can’t even work up the energy for a whine of complaint as Bucky pulls away, letting the final strands of cum fall on Tony’s face instead.

Tony’s stomach gives a weak clench of arousal as he pants for breath, feeling _marked_ just like he’d wanted, even if he _is_ so flushed he can barely even feel the heat of Bucky’s cum. Tony’s entire _body_ feels flushed, drenched in sweat and his own cum, skin still tingling everywhere the wax clings, but he weakly swipes his tongue over his lips, chasing the lingering flavor.

He can hear Bucky’s uneven breath from beside him, close and familiar and steadying much more quickly than Tony’s own, and working up the energy to open his eyes is seeming less and less important.

Tony would much rather just let himself float, warm and loose and pleasantly exhausted, sighing happily as he finally goes completely limp against the table.

Time has gone slow and thick around him, and Tony can’t be sure how much of it passes before he hears Bucky tucking himself away, stepping away enough to reach the bowls he always has waiting. That’s all incredibly familiar too, the sounds of quickly melting ice being swirled around a constant reminder that Bucky is still right there, Bucky has him.

He can just drift, sinking into the warmth of feeling taken care of, feeling _special,_ letting it carry him away and steadily pull him under.

Bucky says something to JARVIS and Tony doesn’t even try to follow it, doesn’t zone back in enough to actually register words until he feels Bucky oh so gently tracing a finger along his hairline.

“Gonna clean you up now, darlin,” Bucky says, and Tony manages a weak nod. He sighs again and leans into it as Bucky gently wipes his face clean, shuddering minutely at how thick and gravely Bucky’s voice comes out as he says “You did so good baby, thank you for letting me use your mouth like that.”

Tony smiles dopily at the knowledge that he did _good,_ happiness swelling so huge in his chest that he’s surprised it doesn’t come bursting out of him. His breath catches again as the praise and _thanks_ settle through the fog of his mind, feeding the pleasant warmth that’s still swirling beneath his skin.

Bucky is careful and efficient as he unties the silk holding Tony in place, removes the bandages over the arc reactor, and Tony doesn’t even _try_ to move from his lazy sprawl. He can’t feel his limbs reliably enough to even _suggest_ he help clean up, and he knows that Bucky would just tell him not to worry about it anyways.

So Tony lets himself believe that Bucky really doesn’t expect him to help, doesn’t want Tony to do anything but lay here and bask in it, and it’s kind of terrifyingly easy to accomplish right now.

It’s easy to let himself believe that he can _trust_ his dom like this, that he can trust _Bucky._

So Tony just leaves his eyes closed, humming and sighing and _melting_ as Bucky begins carefully removing the dried wax that’s scattered all over Tony’s body. Every spot and drip of wax that’s peeled away leaves little ripples of sensation spreading across Tony’s oversensitized skin and he tries to follow the path of Bucky’s hands, he really does, but everything is _so hazy._

The desperate adrenaline is fading away and Tony quickly loses track of everything, loses himself in the warm, comfortable haze of Bucky’s hands moving over his skin, strong fingers digging into his muscle, pulling him under until between one breath and the next Tony must fall asleep.

* * *

Tony wakes up still warm, wrapped in soft sheets and through the fog still filling his head Tony recognizes the solid weight of Bucky pressed in close against his back, wrapped around him.

Even with his eyes closed Tony can tell that the lights in the room are still down low, and he has no idea how much time has passed, or when they apparently moved to the bedroom, but Tony has zero intention to move. He could in fact fall right back to sleep very easily, feeling warm and safe and still more than a little floaty.

He’s so close to drifting off, lulled by the steady puff of Bucky’s breath against his hair back into the easy, peaceful sleep that he’s still not used to. That he _wants_ to get used to despite telling himself that he _can’t._

But then he feels Bucky’s arm start to slide free from around his waist, the warmth of him pulling away, and Tony makes a soft sound of protest in the back of his throat as his hopes for falling back asleep start to slip away.

“Shhh it’s okay baby I’m just going to check on dinner,” Bucky says softly and the words filter into Tony’s brain _so slowly,_ but when they finally do Tony makes another unhappy sound.

He wiggles and forces his tired limbs to cooperate enough that he can roll over and fix Bucky with a pout, because dinner is the _last_ thing on his mind right now.

Tony is warm and happy and more relaxed than he’s been in weeks, still clinging to the last hints of sleep and a little dazed with it. Everything is still blurred around the edges, his thoughts sluggish and warm and Tony just knows that if Bucky leaves the bed, leaves the _room,_ then the spell will be broken.

Bucky just smiles at him, soft and warm, and leans across the tiny space that separates them to catch Tony’s bottom lip between his own in a quick kiss, gentle and sweet and over all too soon.

“I’m gonna come back baby, I promise,” Bucky whispers, shifting to drop soft kisses all over Tony’s face, his cheeks and his half-closed eyelids and the tip of his nose. Tony doesn’t even try to stop the dopey smile that grows on his face as he tips his chin up, trying to get Bucky’s lips against his own again, but Bucky just kisses his temple and his voice is low and fond as he asks “Aww you’re awfully sweet baby, you still down?”

Tony smiles wider with a slight nod, basking in the fact that he _is,_ that he actually feels relaxed and _safe_ enough to linger for so long on the fringes of subspace. To _enjoy_ it rather than trying to claw his way out of it as quickly as he can.

He doesn’t _want_ to go back to real life, not yet, he wants to stay right here where everything is warm and lazy and nothing can touch him. So he slides his hands around Bucky’s waist and under the worn soft fabric of Bucky’s shirt, chasing the addictive heat of his skin.

When Bucky just hums and doesn’t shake him off Tony gets a little bolder, pulling him in closer until Bucky is holding himself over Tony carefully, just close enough that it has Tony whining in frustration and tugging at him a little harder with sleep-heavy limbs. It’s easy to tell that Bucky is holding himself back and he wants _more._

Tony can’t even pout about the smirk on Bucky’s face as he gives in and lowers himself down the rest of the way, too busy luxuriating in how _amazing_ it feels to have Bucky’s solid weight pressing him down into the soft bed, completely covering him, warm and _grounding._

Bucky props himself up with his elbows on either side of Tony, just shy of _too_ heavy, and from this close Tony can see the slivers of color in his eyes, the faint smile lines in his pale skin. Tony blinks slowly as his heart lurches, dragging in a slow breath and then letting it out hard when their chests press together firmly. With a small, helpless grin he digs his fingers a little harder into the firm muscle of Bucky’s back and then tips his head up into it eagerly when he gets Bucky’s fingers burying themselves into his hair in return, humming happily in the back of his throat.

“Happy kitty, hmm?” Bucky asks softly, and Tony wrinkles his nose at the return of that comparison, but he doesn’t at all mind the way Bucky’s nails are scratching gently over his scalp, sending pleasant little tingles down his spine, so Tony nods and arches harder into the contact. Bucky’s quiet, rumbling laugh is an extra nice bonus, Tony gets to see the way his eyes light up with it before he ducks his head to press a lingering kiss to the side of Tony’s throat.

His chest clenches again as Bucky’s lips move along his neck in a series of slow, wet kisses, his eyes falling closed with a sigh as happy static fills his head again. He slides his hands a little further up Bucky’s back and wiggles slightly in place, just enough to feel the way Bucky’s thick bulk easily holds him pinned in place. Bucky’s shirt and underwear are so soft against Tony’s skin, still bare and hypersensitive, and Bucky is _so warm_ under his palms.

Tony clings to him shamelessly even though he _knows_ he shouldn’t, there are tiny alarm bells ringing somewhere way off in the back of his mind, but they seem _so far away._ So hard to hear through the warm cotton filling Tony’s brain.

He knows it’s important, alarms go off for a _reason,_ but all those probably valid reasons he _shouldn’t_ be a needy, demanding mess are currently escaping him. Especially with Bucky humming happily as he continues kissing his way across Tony’s throat, like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing.

“Hey JARVIS,” Bucky says, lips still brushing over the underside of Tony’s jaw, his breath slow and steady as it washes over Tony’s skin, “Is the food done?”

Tony doesn’t even bother listening to JARVIS’ response, much more interested in Bucky's skin beneath his hands, dragging his fingertips up the line of Bucky’s spine and then digging them into the thick muscle of his lower back. Sprawled out over him like this, thick arms braced on either side of Tony’s head, it’s all the more apparent how _huge_ Bucky is, enough to cover Tony almost entirely, to make him feel completely surrounded and _safe._

Bucky gets his attention by kissing his jaw again, gently nosing at the skin as he asks “What do you think kitten, you wanna get up and have dinner?” Tony cracks one eye open with a noise of complaint, breath catching a little because all he can see is _Bucky,_ the way Bucky smiles indulgently as he says “Okay, ten more minutes and then I’m gonna have to get up and get us some food and water,” and then leans in to smother Tony’s next disgruntled sound with a short kiss.

The shift and bunch of muscle in Bucky’s arm as he shifts his weight would be distracting even if Tony’s brain _wasn’t_ currently running on one single cylinder, and he jolts a little when Bucky’s fingers trail up his side, just firmly enough to have him squirming and laughing. The wide grin on Bucky’s face has Tony’s heart stuttering in his chest again, tripping all over itself as Bucky leans down to press a soft kiss to the corner of his eye, and his cheek, and then finally his lips.

Tony melts into it easily as Bucky kisses him, eyes falling closed again and his hands sliding a little further up Bucky’s back as a quiet moan escapes him. Bucky’s fingers tighten slightly in his hair, pushing him back into the pillow as Bucky kisses him harder, deep and slow and demanding and Tony loses all track of time again.

All he cares about is dragging his hands up and down Bucky’s sides, fingers spread wide to get as much contact as he can, losing himself in the gentle drag and press of Bucky’s lips against his own. Even once the kiss fades away to simply sharing the same air, Tony is in no hurry to pull away.

Everything is peaceful and calm, Bucky’s back rising and falling steadily beneath his palms, and at least for a little while Tony doesn’t have a million things he needs to do clamoring for attention in the back of his mind. He doesn’t have to think about anything at all.

When Bucky breaks the moment by lifting his forehead from where it’s been resting against Tony’s and dropping a kiss to the tip of his nose Tony wants to pout about it, but instead he just finds himself laughing and wrinkling his nose slightly.

“I’m gonna go get us dinner,” Bucky says, smiling warmly as he brushes his nose against Tony’s and makes his heart rate stutter all over again, “You going to be okay here by yourself for a few minutes?”

Tony nods quickly, because he _will_ be, it’s just a couple minutes, but he can’t shake the feeling that Bucky has no reason to come _back._ It has to be getting pretty late, and Tony is up now, mostly, Bucky could absolutely leave now and Tony wouldn’t even blame him, Bucky probably has work tomorrow and Tony has taken up enough of his time already.

“Yea,” Tony forces out, firmly reminding himself that Bucky probably wouldn’t have made food if he didn’t actually plan to stay at least long enough to eat it, and then to his embarrassment finds himself blurting “Just come back?”

Bucky’s face does something complicated, jaw tightening and eyes narrowing before his expression smooths out a split second later and if they weren’t face to face Tony probably would have missed it. He’s not sure what it actually _means_ though, and his throat tightens as Tony wonders if he’s finally found that line of _‘too clingy,’_ because he always finds it eventually.

Before he can take it back though, Bucky is pushing his fingers through Tony’s hair again, kissing his cheek and saying “Yea baby, I’m comin right back, I promise.” Tony nods again but apparently he doesn’t look convinced, because Bucky smiles a little sadly and asks “Hey, remember, no lying right?” and then waits until Tony makes a soft sound of acknowledgement before finishing with “So remember, if I make a promise to do something, I’m gonna, okay?”

Tony can only blink at him for several long seconds, lip caught between his teeth as he tries to convince himself to just _believe_ it, to believe the earnest expression on Bucky’s face.

“Okay,” he finally manages with a weak smile, voice a little less firm than he intended, but it’s worth it for the way Bucky kisses him, firm and pleased, his nails scratching across Tony’s scalp again.

“I’m comin back baby, so you cuddle up and keep the bed warm for me, okay?” Bucky says when he pulls away, a teasing grin on his face and Tony returns it helplessly, nodding again because Bucky is coming back, he _is._ “Good boy,” Bucky says softly, dropping a quick kiss to his lips and then grinning wider when Tony flushes and squirms at the words.

Bucky fights his way free of the tangle of blankets they’ve worked themselves into while Tony fake grumbles and makes things difficult, constantly grabbing at the blankets and trying to tug them back into place. Bucky is laughing as he finally detangles himself and escapes, and carefully tucks the blankets back up under Tony’s chin, leans down to kiss him one more time, and then climbs off the bed entirely.

The bed instantly feels colder without Bucky in it, even as Tony wiggles around to chase the lingering body heat, but at least he gets to shamelessly watch Bucky’s ass and bare thighs as he heads for the door, not bothering to grab his pants on his way.

Once he’s alone in the room Tony props himself up against the headboard a little, trying to ignore the cold curl in his stomach. The cabin is small enough that if he tries he can hear Bucky moving around in the kitchen, opening the oven and the refrigerator, talking to JARVIS like it’s the most natural thing in the world and Bucky _is_ coming back, he left his pants and shoes and everything.

The smell of rice and salmon and that delicious glaze makes it up the stairs before Bucky does, making Tony’s stomach growl, and Tony does his best to pretend that the flutter in his chest is just because he’s hungry. Not at all because he’s being served dinner in bed again, homemade this time, because he’s _still_ not used to that. Tony closes his eyes and drags in a deep breath, telling himself that he probably _shouldn’t_ get used to it, he shouldn’t get attached. Although ideally he could at least stop acting like a stunned moron about it every time.

He snaps his eyes open again at the sound of a wolf whistle, flushing a little when he finds Bucky in the doorway with a grin and a tray loaded up with what looks like _more than_ enough food for both of them.

“Heya doll, what’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone?” Bucky calls softly, and then grins wider when Tony feels his cheeks get a little warmer.

Tony struggles to shove all his worries aside in favor of tugging the blanket a little closer to his chin and lifting a teasing eyebrow. “Well my dom left me here you see,” he says, fighting down a grin and the words don’t even leave the sour taste in his mouth like they usually do, makes it easy to keep his voice light and mock distressed as he adds “And now I’m all _alone.”_

Bucky snorts out a quiet laugh that has Tony finally breaking out into a wide smile, because it’s such an unexpectedly adorable laugh from someone so huge and intimidating. Although it’s kind of hard to see him as intimidating when Bucky is shaking his head fondly as he crosses the room, holding a meal he made himself, when Tony knows exactly how soft and loose-limbed Bucky is when he first wakes up from a nap, how _careful_ he is with all that muscle.

“You poor thing,” Bucky croons teasingly as he settles the tray in Tony’s lap and makes sure it’s steady before sliding back under the blankets beside him. He settles in on his side, close enough that Tony can feel the heat of his skin again while somehow _not_ disturbing the wine glass on the tray, and the amusement in his eyes is obvious even as he sighs sadly and adds “Guess you’ll just have to make do with me.”

Tony stops reaching for the fork in favor of cupping Bucky’s cheek instead, keeping his chin tipped up so Tony can lean in and kiss him, careful not to upend the tray himself. His stomach jumps a little when Bucky lets out a surprised hum and leans into the contact, making it _so hard_ for Tony to pull away, his fingers lingering over the scruff of Bucky’s beard and his voice coming out way more honest and less teasing than he intended as he says “I think you’ll do just fine.”

Bucky makes a soft happy sound as he tangles his feet with Tony’s beneath the blankets, and it is _not_ helping Tony’s stomach be any less of a fluttery mess, so he quickly turns his attention back to finally scooping up the fork and looking over the amazing spread of food in front of him.

Scooping up the perfect bite takes some creative stabbing, and pushing the sheets a little lower around his waist so Tony will only make a mess of himself if he drops anything, but once he has an assortment of veggies, rice, and a big piece of salmon balanced on his fork Tony wastes no time shoving it into his mouth. He groans happily at the burst of flavor, savory and sweet and everything still perfectly warm.

The next carefully-arranged forkful Tony holds out to Bucky hopefully, partially because there’s no way he’s going to eat all of this himself, but mostly because it makes him feel a little better to share, to do _something_ in return for Bucky spending the entire night spoiling him rotten.

And because this food is _amazing,_ Bucky absolutely needs to have some too.

The small smile on Bucky’s face as he leans in to accept the bite of food makes Tony’s own smile grow until it’s almost painful, his chest flooding with warmth and pride as Bucky pulls away with a soft “Thank you baby.”

Tony nods, only a _little_ distracted watching Bucky lick his lips clean and trying to convince himself not to follow the same path with his own tongue, instead turning his attention back to the platter of food in front of him.

Every other forkful he offers over to Bucky, careful not to lose any stray grains of rice in the bed, and the ball of happy warmth that’s taken up residence in Tony’s chest doesn’t calm down at all as an easy quiet settles between them. The lack of the constant drone of city noise just outside is a constant awareness in the back of Tony’s mind, something he’d gotten so good at blocking out that he’s a little surprised by how relaxed he feels at _not having to._ Safe in the mess of blankets and extra pillows shoved just barely to the side, it feels like the real world is much further than just an hour away, like it can’t touch him at all and it’s the most at peace Tony has felt in a _long_ time.

He hums softly when Bucky’s wide palm strokes over his hip, the skin still pink and sensitive from the wax, and Tony shivers a little as it sends pleasant tingles spreading all across his entire body. He glances over when he hears Bucky drag in a deep breath, like he’s working himself up to say something, and Tony pauses in the act of trying to scoop up the last bit of veggies.

“I like it when you take care of me,” Bucky finally says, and Tony can barely see a hint of pink along his cheekbones as Bucky drags his gaze up from watching himself pet the skin of Tony’s hip to meet his eyes instead, “It’s sweet and I haven’t had a lot of sweetness like this before.”

Tony’s first thought is that oh, people don’t usually describe him as _sweet,_ maybe he really is doing _something_ right—

And then his smile falls away as the second part of Bucky’s admission sinks in, because that just doesn’t sit right at all. Sure, Tony can’t imagine there was much sweetness between the war and breaking free from Hydra, but not even before that? Tony may have only the vaguest idea of what Bucky has been up to since then, mostly from stories Bucky has told him about Sam or his job, but he’s so thoughtful and caring and surely _someone_ must be taking care of him back, right?!

It makes Tony all the more determined to do every sweet thing he can think of, and sharing the food that’s very clearly too much for him anyways is an incredibly easy place to start.

“I don’t get how anyone could not want to take care of you,” he blurts before he can stop himself, before he can try to mask the confused frustration in his voice, and Tony only hesitates for a second before deciding he might as well go all in and admit “You’re such a good dom, any sub would be falling all over themselves to show you how much they like it and want to reciprocate.”

“A lot of people these days have odd ideas about doms,” Bucky says with a small shrug, eyes firmly fixed somewhere around Tony’s stomach again and a sad little twist to his lips, “And how they should be hard and unfeeling and don’t need assurance and affection too.”

Tony could probably point out that that _has_ kind of been his experience so far, most of the doms he’s known he’s pretty sure wouldn't _accept_ assurance or affection, but even _he_ knows that’s not a helpful observation right now. And the absolute _last_ thing he’d want to do is imply that Bucky should be anything _other_ than the kind, considerate person he’s clearly trying to be. The person he’s trying to piece together out of what’s left from _before_ and the countless expectations he must be living under.

So instead of saying anything stupid Tony sets the fork down and puts his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, waiting until Bucky actually looks up at him again so Tony can fix him him a serious expression.

“ _Fuck_ other people,” Tony says emphatically, because while he’s generally terrible at giving advice this at least is something he’s familiar with, “They assume shit about you based on appearance or some snap judgment or a shitty opinion someone else gave them and they don’t know _you.”_

He’s maybe a little _more_ emphatic than he intended, by the end, but it’s a lesson Tony has spent entirely too long learning and he doesn’t want Bucky making the same mistake, spending his time trying to match what people are expecting. Or trying to be the exact _opposite,_ just to prove them wrong.

It’s so much better, so much _easier,_ to just say _fuck it_ and be _himself._ Even if it is a lesson Tony is _still_ struggling with.

“You’re an awesome dom Bucky and I’m lucky to have you,” Tony adds, because it needs to be said, even if he has to turn his attention back to the tray in front of him to actually get the words out and his cheeks are embarrassingly warm as he admits “I like taking care of you, when you let me.”

“Thank you baby,” Bucky says, his voice rough, and when Tony nervously glances over it’s to find Bucky with a small, pleased smile on his face and a deeper flush across his cheeks. “I’m, I’m glad you feel that way,” he says, finally looking up at Tony again and his smile grows, even if it is a little shaky, “I like you taking care of me, even if I don’t… even if my brain says I don’t deserve it sometimes.”

Tony’s heart clenches painfully in his chest, because _fuck_ does he know that feeling too. But this is no time for pity parties, not when he would much rather see Bucky happy and relaxed again, so he goes with his usual fallback; smartass teasing. Although he can’t resist leaning in to kiss the growing frown off Bucky’s face, his hand sliding up from Bucky’s shoulder to cup his cheek again as Tony kisses him as slow and sweet as he possibly can.

“Welcome to the shitty brain club,” he says as he pulls away, smirking a little and nudging the tip of his nose against Bucky’s, “Meetings are Friday’s at seven pm.”

He presses a final kiss to Bucky’s lips before sitting upright again and then shoves a forkful of rice into his mouth with a self-satisfied nod, like there’s nothing more to say on the matter.

And as far as Tony’s concerned there isn’t. He’s more than willing to spend one night a week arguing with Bucky’s brain, if that’s what it takes, and it’s not like Tony doesn’t have plenty of experience arguing with his own.

Bucky’s startled laugh is incredibly gratifying, and Tony’s heart gives another happy lurch at the wide, slightly baffled smile that grows on Bucky’s face, his eyes bright with it. The only downside is that he only gets to see it for a second before Bucky ducks his head again, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the bare skin of Tony’s stomach.

“Can I have another bite?” Bucky asks as he looks up at Tony again, tapping at his arm with a teasing grin, “I’m hungry and need feeding.”

“Spoiled,” Tony accuses, but he can’t help grinning back as he quickly scoops up another large bite of salmon and rice and holds it out to Bucky.

Once the salmon is gone Tony leans in to kiss Bucky again, because he still kind of can’t believe Bucky actually _made_ this for him. He even went through the trouble of asking JARVIS what Tony’s _favorite_ is, and if Tony lets himself think about that for too long he’s going to get entirely too emotional. He’s already going to have to give himself the strict _‘no strings attached, remember stupid?’_ talk with himself when he gets home as it is.

Kissing Bucky in thanks seems like the much safer alternative, and Tony doesn’t pull away until he feels at least a _little_ more under control.

When he takes a sip of the wine Bucky is the one who swoops up to kiss him, tongue dragging firmly over Tony’s lip again like he’s chasing the flavor. Tony leans into him eagerly, humming happily low in his chest and incredibly glad that they already finished off the water when he bumps the tray with his knee. It’s only when he glances down to make sure nothing spilled that Tony spots the slices of cake and remembers oh right, _dessert,_ so he pulls himself away and grabs for the fork again, grinning shamelessly when Bucky laughs softly at his excitement.

“Oh my _god,”_ Tony groans around the first bite, not even caring that he’s talking with his mouth full, “Where did you get this cake?”

“Made it too, last night,” Bucky says, that pleased little smile back on his face and if Tony wasn't so distracted by the world’s most perfect carrot cake he’d give into the urge to lean in and kiss him again.

“Mmm, good, then you can make more and I can eat all of this without sharing, guilt free,” Tony says happily, and then squawks out a laugh when Bucky bites at his hip in retaliation.

The next bite of cake he offers to Bucky, and Tony’s breath catches, his blood rushing a little hotter, as Bucky wraps his lips around the fork and then licks them clean afterwards.

They take their time finishing off the cake and wine, and once the food is gone Bucky shifts the tray down to the end of the bed while Tony lets himself shamelessly admire the stretch and pull of muscles in Bucky’s back. As soon as Bucky is settled back in beside him Tony rolls into him again, tangling his fingers in Bucky’s shirt so he can pull him into a slow, deep kiss, chasing the lingering flavor of the honey glaze on his lips and hoping it even comes _close_ to expressing how grateful he is.

Bucky’s fingers slide into his hair again, nails scraping lightly at his scalp as he catches Tony’s lower lip between his own for a moment, and Tony makes a soft happy sound low in his throat. Bucky’s fingers drag up from the base of his skull, pushing Tony’s hair the wrong way and sending tingles down his spine, and Tony presses closer. He tangles his legs up with Bucky’s, shivering at the smooth slide of his sensitive skin against Bucky’s and then shivering harder when Bucky’s chest rumbles with a barely-there growl.

Tony can feel the curl of Bucky’s smile against his lips and his heart lurches with it, a new wave of tingles running across his skin as Bucky’s hand drags lightly down his back and Tony doesn’t even try to fight the next happy noise that rises in his throat. He arches into it eagerly as Bucky’s fingers trail lightly down his side, over his ribs and the curve of his hip, and Tony knows in the back of his mind that he’s supposed to be coming _up,_ but it’s _so_ tempting to let himself sink back into the warm haze that’s still lingering at the corners of his brain.

He could all too happily stay here all night, basking in the way Bucky touches him slow and gentle and lazy, the soft, drugging drag of Bucky’s lips against his own, and Tony doesn’t even have the energy to worry about it. It’s not like it matters what he _wants_ anyways, soon he’ll have to drive back to the city and get back to work, and this will be another warm, cozy memory that Tony won’t admit he falls asleep to, alone in his giant bed.

It’s been surprisingly effective the last couple weeks, has led to Tony getting some of the best sleep he’s had in _months,_ and he tries to soak up every detail of this moment that he can. The warm cocoon of blankets around them and the quiet of the cabin, the way Bucky’s hand tightens slightly on his hip, kissing Tony a little harder. Tony needs to remember every second of this, what it’s like to feel wanted and _cherished,_ because _fuck_ it has been so long since Tony felt like this and he doesn’t know when he’s going to lose it.

Even he isn’t selfish and delusional enough to think he’ll actually get to _keep_ this, but as long as Tony doesn’t make a complete mess of things he’ll at least have these memories of feeling warm and safe to come back to.

For as long as he has it Tony is going to make sure he appreciates every slow, lazy kiss and every sweet, thoughtful thing that Bucky does for him. He’s going to continue taking care of Bucky in every way he can get away with, every way he thinks Bucky will accept, until he manages to convince Bucky how amazing he is.

Because really, that seems like the _least_ Tony can do.

By the time Bucky pulls away Tony’s lips feel as tingly and sensitive as the rest of his body, loose-limbed and lazy and still wrapped up in Bucky’s arms. Tony blinks his eyes open slowly, and then smiles a little wider as Bucky gently traces the shape of his lips with one finger.

“Hey doll,” Bucky says softly, calloused pad of his fingers resting against the corner of Tony’s mouth for a second before sliding away, “You up? Ready for a debrief?”

Tony nods slightly and can’t completely contain his sigh, because despite how many times he’d reminded himself that he can’t stay here all night Tony still finds himself reluctant for it to actually _end._

He’s probably taken up enough of Bucky’s time for one night though, and it won’t be long before Tony’s mental to-do list starts crowding to the front of his brain again anyways.

“So,” Bucky starts and Tony quickly drags his attention back to what’s right in front of him, to the way Bucky’s playful grin makes his eyes shine as he asks “Did you like the wax? It seemed like you did.”

Heat floods Tony’s cheeks as he nods again, teeth sinking into his lip in an effort to fight down the weak sound that wants to rise in his throat as his stomach gives a hard lurch. It doesn’t help that Bucky’s gaze remains fixed on him, and Tony can see the exact moment Bucky’s pupils blow out, swallowing up the clear blue of his eyes and making Tony’s breath catch in his chest.

“It was... overwhelming,” Tony admits slowly, shuddering as he lets himself get a little lost in the memory, the way every drop of wax had been an entire cascade of sensations, bright sparks of heat and lingering warmth, the pressure of it clinging to his skin. “It... didn’t hurt _exactly,_ it was more... hot and surprising, I guess?” he says, considering his words carefully because Bucky wants him to be _honest,_ and his cheeks warm a little further as he forces himself to add “I’ve never felt anything like that.”

Bucky shifts against him, warm skin sliding tantalizingly against Tony’s, and his eyes get a little darker as he clears his throat and then says “I’m glad you liked it, you seemed like you were down pretty hard this time, was that okay?”

Tony has the terrible feeling that his blush is spreading down to his chest by this point, but he still hurries to say “It’s okay, it was...”

He ends up trailing off weakly, dropping his eyes to Bucky’s chin as it hits him that he can’t _remember_ the last time he was that far into subspace, completely beyond words with it, just a mess of sensation and broken noises and all Tony can think is that it was—

“It was... really nice,” he blurts, his face on _fire_ at this point and that _still_ doesn’t seem like enough but Tony’s brain kind of shorts out when he lets himself think about it for too long. At least when he flicks his eyes up Bucky seems to have dropped his gaze as well, and Tony works up the nerve to ask “Um, was that, did- did you mind?”

Bucky doesn’t respond, dark eyes still fixed somewhere around Tony’s collarbone and moving slowly down his chest. The usual twinge of discomfort from having the arc reactor exposed is definitely there, impossible to completely ignore with it lighting up their little blanket nest like a weak blue flashlight, but Tony finds he doesn’t really mind. He definitely doesn’t mind enough to _move_ at all, especially because he’s at least 90% sure that’s not what Bucky is staring at anyways.

He’s not sure if he should be offended or deeply flattered that Bucky got distracted from the answer to his own question, but Tony is leaning more towards _‘flattered.’_ Mostly because he hasn’t gotten over the way Bucky looks at him, all heat and hunger _,_ so Tony just focuses on turning his baffled grin into a cocky smirk as he tugs a little at Bucky’s shirt and asks “Bucky? You still in there snowflake?”

It is _definitely_ flattering when Bucky’s gaze jerks up to meet his again, blinking a little dumbly, and Tony grins wider right up until Bucky chuckles softly and reaches up to gently push Tony’s no-doubt messy hair off his forehead.

“Sorry doll, got distracted by your pretty body,” Bucky says, grinning wickedly and completely ruining Tony’s smug gloating, leaving him choking on nothing and blushing harder. Bucky doesn’t call him on it at least, and he even looks appropriately sheepish as he asks “What was your question baby?”

Tony shakes his head with a huff that’s _entirely_ a cover for him mentally scrambling because right, he had a question, _what was it—_

“I wanted to know if you enjoyed it too,” he says and then pauses, trying his best to ignore the curl of arousal in his gut and it doesn’t help that when Tony licks his suddenly dry lips Bucky’s eyes track the motion, “You uh, seemed to.”

“You mean me using your pretty mouth to get off?” Bucky asks in a tone that’s entirely too casual for the _filthy_ smirk on his face.

Tony can only nod because there’s no denying the way his stomach gives a hard twist at the words, the way it leaves him squirming in place and biting his lip against any embarrassing noises that want to slip out.

Bucky’s smirk gets wider and Tony is so caught up in staring at the curl of it that his breath catches in surprise when Bucky presses a thumb to Tony’s lower lip, pulling it free from his teeth. The pad of Bucky’s thumb drags slowly over his lip, still swollen from the endless kissing, and Tony finds himself panting breathlessly against Bucky’s skin as arousal surges back to life in his veins, bright and hot, just on the edge of too-soon and _amazing._

“Yea baby, I enjoyed that,” Bucky says, voice low and heated and his eyes entirely dark now, all traces of amusement gone from his face, “I love your mouth, you take my cock so well, let me use you and mark you up with my cum.”

His thumb presses a little harder against Tony’s lip on the next swipe and Tony can’t help himself, he really can’t, it’s _so easy_ to tip his chin a little and let Bucky’s finger slip into his mouth. Tony closes his lips around it, sucking gently while he drags his tongue up the length of it and it’s such a rush that he can _see_ the clench of Bucky’s jaw, he can feel the low rumble of Bucky’s groan in the minuscule space between them.

For a second it feels like they’re perched on the edge of something huge and a little terrifying, out of control, a look on Bucky’s face like he’s very seriously considering _eating Tony alive._ And then a second later it’s gone, Bucky’s expression softens ever so slightly and Tony drags in a ragged breath, strangely disappointed.

Bucky pulls his thumb free from Tony’s mouth, sliding across his lip one more time before wiping it wetly across Tony’s cheek. It’s filthy, and a little possessive, and it leaves Tony shuddering as his stomach lurches again and his cock gives a hopeful twitch.

“You’re trouble, aren’t ya baby?” Bucky asks in a low, teasing tone as he slides his thumb along Tony’s jaw to his chin and then presses a little harder, holding him in place as Bucky leans in for another kiss that’s still slow but _searingly_ hot. By the time Bucky pulls away Tony is breathless again, so focused on the way Bucky’s lips still brush against his own with every word that it takes him a second to actually register it as Bucky says “Damn near make me lose my mind.”

A soft noise slips out of Tony’s throat before he can stop it, fingers tightening in Bucky’s shirt and desperately chasing after the contact as Bucky moves to pull away. He can feel Bucky’s quick breath against his tingling lips, just _barely_ feel the warmth of him, and then Bucky teasingly pulls away again, leaving Tony wiggling across the bed after him and whining in protest.

Bucky’s soft chuckle has heat spreading up into Tony’s chest, swelling huge inside him while Bucky’s fingers dig into his hair again and pull him in.

“C’mere baby,” Bucky croons softly, teasing and _unfairly_ arousing, and Tony can feel the curl of his smile as Bucky kisses him again, stealing the breath from his lungs.

Tony doesn’t need to be told twice, continues shifting closer until they’re pressed together chest to thigh, hips slotting together, and Tony sighs softly as he melts into the firm strength of Bucky against him. Bucky breaks away from the kiss with a soft groan but he doesn’t go far, just presses his forehead to Tony’s and at least his breathing seems as ragged as Tony’s, at least he’s clutching at Tony just as tightly as he lets out a quiet, wry laugh.

“I knew the second I kissed you I was gonna have a hell of a time keeping my hands off you,” Bucky says, rubbing at Tony’s scalp again, “You’re the best kind of temptation darlin.”

“Have you seen _you_?” Tony demands with a laugh that’s only a _little_ hysterical and tugs playfully at the back of Bucky’s shirt. _“You’re_ the one that’s temptation. With your shoulders and _thighs_ and you do this growly thing like a wolf that is—” he cuts off as another shudder runs down his spine at just the memory of it, and Tony’s voice drops a little as he admits “Very hot.”

The wide, toothy grin that spreads across Bucky’s face has heat rushing through Tony’s veins even before Bucky leans in to nip at Tony’s jaw, making him jolt as his breath catches in his chest.

“Mmm, a wolf huh,” Bucky says thoughtfully, lips still dragging along Tony’s skin. “Does that make you little red riding hood?” he asks, biting at Tony’s jaw again, and then his voice drops down into a rumbling growl as he continues, “Hmm? You scared the big bad wolf is gonna eat you up?”

_“Scared?”_ Tony repeats with a breathless laugh, because he’s actually a little lightheaded from how hard his blood is swirling through his veins and no, _scared_ is not the word he’d use. He pushes his fingers up into Bucky’s hair again, tugging until Bucky looks up to meet his eye so Tony can insist “I _want_ it.”

Bucky drops his forehead against Tony’s collar bone with a groan, and then laughs weakly as he says “Have mercy darlin, my poor old heart can’t take you sayin shit like that.”

Tony can’t help the delighted laugh that bursts out of him, tightening his arms around Bucky in a brief hug as a wave of fondness rushes over him. It’s just such an unexpectedly flustered reaction, especially considering the ease with which Bucky says some absolutely _filthy things_ while _he’s_ the one teasing _Tony._

“Sorry grandpa,” he says and curls around Bucky a little tighter, his voice mock consolatory as he runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair, “I’ll get you a pacemaker, how bout that?”

Bucky pushes him away with a snort of laughter, rolling Tony over onto his back and then grinning down at him while Tony smiles back at him brightly, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You’re the worst,” Bucky says lightly, shaking his head with obvious amusement, “And I would like a refund please.” Tony laughs in delight at the _sass,_ hard enough that he has to squeeze his eyes shut against the swell of emotion in his chest, and he doesn’t see it coming when Bucky’s fingers tickle up his side, making him squirm and laugh harder. He quiets as Bucky’s hand shifts to cup his cheek, and Tony blinks his eyes open as Bucky says “I’m glad you enjoyed it baby, was there anything you didn’t enjoy?”

“Nope,” Tony says with what’s probably a dopey grin, “It was all very, _very_ good.” After a second of hesitation he reaches up to tangle his fingers with Bucky’s, bringing their hands down to rest on his chest just below the ring of the reactor and he doesn’t even _worry_ about the scar tissue that surrounds it as he studies Bucky’s face and asks “How about you? Anything wrong?”

“Not a thing darlin,” Bucky says with a small shake of his head and a warm smile, “You were perfect.”

“You’re going to inflate my ego if you keep that up,” Tony says, trying to ignore the warmth growing in his cheeks in favor of playfully waving a figure at Bucky, “And then where will we be?”

Tony is expecting more teasing, has his own quip ready to go about how at this rate the cabin won’t be big enough for Bucky and Tony _and_ his ego, but instead Bucky leans down and kisses him sweetly.

“Exactly where we should be,” Bucky says as he pulls away from the kiss, while Tony is still waiting for his brain to come back online, “With you knowing how wonderful you are.”

Bucky is smiling widely as he presses another kiss to Tony’s slack lips and then rolls out of bed. It leaves Tony staring stupidly after him, heat flooding his face so quickly that he can _hear_ the rush of blood, because what is he supposed to _say_ to that. Talking himself up is _Tony’s_ job, and sometimes the media, not people who actually _know_ him. But Bucky always says these things with such a casual, _earnest_ honesty and every time it leaves Tony more flustered than he can ever remember being.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” Bucky says, standing beside the bed before Tony even has a chance to make grabby hands at him again, and all Tony can do is nod, amused and still off balance, as Bucky leaves the room again.

He doesn’t even have time to wonder where Bucky is going, doesn’t even _think_ to worry that he’ll _leave,_ before Bucky is back with Tony’s clothes bundled up in his arms. He sets them on the bed near Tony’s legs and Tony shoots him a grateful smile, because he’s having hard enough time leaving the warmth of the blankets _without_ having to make the short walk to the other room to grab them himself.

It takes a second to convince himself to actually crawl out of bed, but eventually Tony manages it and starts sluggishly pulling his clothes on. He only wavers in place a _little_ as he steps into his briefs, and when he glances quickly over his shoulder he’s completely unsurprised to find Bucky settled on the bed again, jeans and socks already on and watching Tony get dressed without anything even _resembling_ a hint of shame.

Tony turns to point a finger at him and does his best to ignore the heat building in his face again as he playfully accuses “Lech.”

“Guilty as charged baby,” Bucky says with an unapologetic smirk, his eyes dropping pointedly to Tony’s chest, and Tony can’t help snorting out a soft laugh.

He’s still grinning and shaking his head as he pulls on the rest of his clothes, and then Tony wastes no time crawling back up onto the bed. He settles in beside Bucky again, leaning comfortably against the headboard, _just_ close enough that Tony can feel the warmth Bucky radiates against his side and Tony wiggles his still-bare toes in the sheets for a second as he firmly tells himself that this is _close enough._

He absolutely should _not_ just perch himself in Bucky’s lap and wrap around him again. No matter how much he wants to.

“So,” Bucky says when Tony meets his eyes again, “For next week, I was thinking I could tie you up and edge you again.” He smirks like he heard the eager sound that Tony tried to swallow down, but then something that looks almost like wariness takes over his expression and Tony’s heart stutters a little even before Bucky adds “There’s something else I’d like, but I want it to be a surprise?”

“What...” Tony starts and then trails off, heart suddenly thundering in his chest as his mind races. He has to admit that he _is_ curious to find out what this additional ‘something else’ is, and there’s no denying the tiny curl of interest in his gut, but there are also all sorts of alarms going off in his head because _how many times_ has he learned not to blindly agree to things? And yet here he is, considering it, and finally he hesitantly asks “Can- can you give me a hint?”

Bucky chews on his lip for a second, which is unfairly distracting, before nodding slowly as he says “It’s... nothing you wouldn’t like.” It’s clear that Bucky is choosing his words carefully, but Tony can’t find any signs in his expression that he’s outright lying as he adds “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I promise, if you don’t want to do the rest, I’ll be fine with that. There’s no punishment for not wanting to do something.”

Tony drops his gaze to his lap, chewing on his lip as he turns that over in his head. He should say no, he _should,_ he _knows_ he should, and yet there’s still a not-so-tiny part of him that wants to agree, wants to ignore all the flashing warnings that his brain is trying to throw at him, the memories of past _surprises_ that it’s trying to drag up.

But Tony has always been too curious for his own good, and he really _has_ enjoyed all of Bucky’s plans so far. And when he glances up again Bucky is still watching him, earnest and intense, like he can read all the hesitation and worry on Tony’s face. Like it actually _matters_ and _god_ Tony wants that to be true.

“You promise I can trust you?” Tony blurts before he’s even aware that the words are building and he _hates_ how weak his voice comes out, quiet and wavering, but he can’t bring himself to take it back. Partially because he’s worried that his voice will actually break if he tries to speak again, and partially just because he wants to hear Bucky say it, wants an excuse to believe him.

Bucky nods quickly and emphatically, but he moves slow and cautious as he reaches out to take Tony’s hand in his own, pulling it away from where Tony has apparently been nervously tapping at the reactor through his shirt. Tony swallows thickly as Bucky gently pulls his hand up enough to press a kiss to Tony’s knuckles, _so gentle_ that it makes Tony’s breath catch in his throat.

“I swear to you baby, you can trust me,” Bucky says, low and serious, meeting Tony’s eyes as his lips continue brushing over Tony’s fingers with every word despite the way they twitch in his grasp, “I won’t ever hurt you and I’ll respect what you want.”

After another couple seconds of just staring Tony finally manages to drag in a deep breath, and then he nods with what feels like a thin attempt at a smile.

“I’m sorry I keep asking,” he says quietly, chest twisting with guilt and he needs to say _something_ else, something to explain himself so that Bucky knows it’s not anything he did, that this is _Tony’s_ issue. “I know you mean it, I just…” he starts and then shakes his head with a soft huff, dropping his eyes again as he forces out “I just have a hard time, um— _believing it,_ sometimes.”

“Welcome to the shitty brain club,” Bucky says wryly, echoing Tony’s earlier words and it manages to bring a smile to Tony’s face, small and ironic but _real._

When Tony drags his eyes up again there’s a small, almost painful looking smirk on Bucky’s face as well, somehow both self-deprecating and full of understanding. Bucky presses another kiss to Tony’s fingers and his smile softens a little, goes a little warmer, and Tony’s breath catches again as his heart lurches in his chest. He’s not sure if he feels more relieved at the idea that he doesn’t _have_ to explain himself any more than that, or more guilty over _being_ relieved, because _shit_ how fucked up is it for him to be relieved that Bucky’s head is a nightmare too.

It _is_ nice though, it’s almost like a weight off Tony’s chest to realize that someone _gets it,_ that maybe Tony can pretend a little less like he’s _not_ a complete mess.

“I know what you mean darlin and I don’t hold it against you. I can’t fault you for something I got goin on too,” Bucky says softly and Tony can only nod, dragging in a deep breath and blinking rapidly so his stupid eyes don’t get any ideas about watering. “I know people haven’t been kind to you in the past,” Bucky says, and before Tony can make any sputtering objections he adds “But I promise, I’m never gonna hurt you so long as I can help it. I’d rather cut my own hand off than use it to hurt you baby.”

Tony is nearly stunned by the quiet, firm vehemence in that declaration, and after a second he huffs out a startled laugh. “That- I don’t think that’ll be necessary, but I appreciate the gesture and the sentiment,” he says as he gives their still-tangled fingers a squeeze, only a _little_ choked up.

Bucky smiles and nods, like they’ve settled something, and then turns Tony’s hand over to plant a kiss in the center of his palm. Tony’s fingers twitch again as he smiles back helplessly, and then his heart gives another terrifying lurch as Bucky presses Tony’s hand flat over his impressively muscled chest.

“I’m serious as a heart attack baby,” Bucky says earnestly, his heartbeat steady and soothing under Tony’s palm, “You’re mine and I’m not ever gonna do anything that would hurt you. You’re amazing and I treasure what we have, please believe that.”

Heat floods Tony’s cheeks again and his fingers curl in Bucky’s shirt, all the air rushing out of his lungs as he stares at Bucky for another long couple of moments and finally he manages to whisper “Okay.”

“Okay then,” Bucky says, his smile widening, and he presses Tony’s hand into his chest again, and then a hint of caution enters his voice. “I know work is important for you, but if you can, can you be here by five next week?” he asks, “We need a little more time for this scene.”

Tony lifts a brow at that, wondering what in the _hell_ Bucky has planned that they need two extra hours for, but nods anyway, already crafting his email in his head to Pepper to let her know. “I can make that work,” he says, “no problem.”

Bucky smiles at him, all warm and pleased and Tony’s belly squirms with how _good_ it makes him feel, a soft inhale of surprise slipping from him when Bucky leans in and kisses him again, murmuring “Thank you.” When Bucky finally leans back his gaze shifts over Tony’s shoulder, and then he lets out a soft sigh as he says “Time to hit the road, you gotta get home and get some rest.”

Tony reaches down to finally grab his socks with a small shrug, and then fiddles with them as he firmly reminds himself that Bucky wants _honestly._ “Maybe, it’s always hard to go back to sleep after a nap,” he admits, as he pulls his socks on, and then shoots Bucky a smile as he quickly adds “But I’ll try... sir.”

He lets out a soft, surprised sound when Bucky abruptly leans over to kiss him, slow and sweet until Tony is melting with it, getting dressed completely forgotten in favor of grabbing for Bucky again, tangling his fingers in Bucky’s soft shirt.

“Good boy,” Bucky says as he pulls away, and the hard shudder that runs down Tony’s spine makes his grip on Bucky’s shirt go weak, makes it easy for Bucky to pull out of his grasp and roll off the bed.

Tony pouts for a second, but he knows they really do need to leave, he’s sure Bucky has things he needs to do tomorrow and Tony has taken up enough of his night already. So he finishes pulling on his socks and shoes, and then takes the hand Bucky holds out to him with a hopeful grin.

There’s definitely something funny about Bucky leading him through the cabin that _Tony_ owns, but mostly Tony is just happy that Bucky is so at ease. It definitely surprised Tony when he first got here this afternoon, how at home Bucky had made himself, using the kitchen and talking with JARVIS to get everything set up, because it’s better than Tony could have hoped for.

It’s the _least_ tense Tony has ever seen Bucky, way more than he ever was at the hotel, and Tony doesn’t object at all as Bucky continues leading the way out of the cabin because he can’t stop admiring the easy, relaxed slope of Bucky’s shoulders. The extra proud look on Bucky’s face when he’d presented Tony with a homemade meal is just an extra bonus, and Tony is still kind of marveling at the fact that his crazy spur-of-the-moment idea actually worked out for once.

The night is clear and warm around them as they make their way down the front steps of the cabin, relatively quiet compared to the city although the sounds of rustling trees and countless insects do throw Tony off for a second with their unfamiliarity. They come to a stop beside the car, and Tony only has a second to mourn the loss of Bucky’s fingers tangled warm and solid with his before both of Bucky’s hands are sliding under his blazer, landing on his hips and pulling him in closer.

Tony lets himself be moved happily, wrapping his arms up around Bucky’s shoulders, looping them around Bucky’s neck and pressing in close.

“You’re gonna go home and try to sleep, right?” Bucky asks quietly and his thumbs slip under Tony’s shirt to rub at the small of his back, equal parts soothing and distracting.

“Yes sir,” Tony says softly, eyes fixed on Bucky’s lips and they’re _so close_ already, it takes no effort at all for Tony to lean up that tiny bit further and kiss him, determined to prolong the inevitable just a little bit longer.

One of Bucky’s arms slides around him, strong hand spread wide across Tony’s ass while the other slides up to cup the back of Tony’s head again, impossibly gentle even as he kisses Tony fiercely, heated and demanding. It drags a soft moan out of Tony’s chest, has him slumping a little more heavily against Bucky and he can feel Bucky’s low growl against his lips, can feel it rumbling through Bucky’s chest where they’re pressed together tightly.

It’s all too easy to lose himself in the drag of Bucky’s lips against his own, Bucky’s hands on him, the way Bucky still smells like warm sheets and sweat and hints of wax. Tony has to stop himself from wondering what it would be like to be able to do this all the time, because there is nothing helpful about that thought, and he should just be focused on enjoying this amazing attention while he has it, the slow burn of arousal churning through him again.

By the time Bucky pulls away Tony is a little dazed, his breathing heavy, and a shudder runs through him as Bucky presses a kiss to his forehead. He follows along with it mindlessly as Bucky starts guiding him with gentle hands and then Tony finds himself seated in the driver seat of the car, blinking stupidly while Bucky shuts the door behind him and then leans down to grin at him through the open window.

“Drive safe baby and let me know when you get there,” Bucky says and leans in to press a kiss to Tony’s cheek, pulling away and standing upright again before Tony can do anything stupid, like try to drag him back in.

“Will do,” Tony agrees, and he can’t help staring up at Bucky for a second, fighting down the urge to wonder what it would be like if he didn’t _have_ to leave, if maybe one day he could convince Bucky to stay even through the night. Eventually Tony shakes himself out of it, and flashes Bucky one more quick grin before rolling up his window.

As soon as Tony starts the car Black Sabbath blares through the speakers, and after dragging in one final steadying breath he puts the car in drive and pulls away from the cabin.

Time to go home.

Tony’s chest gives another funny little flutter when he glances up into the rear view mirror just before the turn of the driveway, and realizes Bucky is still standing outside the cabin, barely illuminated by the porch lights.

The drive back feels like it takes no time at all, the roads almost completely empty around him until he makes it to the city itself, and it gives Tony plenty of time to think.

He tries to make himself focus on the list of things he needs to get done tomorrow, which is _long,_ but he can’t quite manage it. Tony’s lips still feel swollen from the lingering kisses, his skin still sensitive and tingling with every brush of his clothes, and all he can think about is _Bucky._

Eventually he has JARVIS actually read his to-do list to him out loud and it may not be very helpful to the _‘going back to sleep’_ plan, but at least it keeps Tony from wondering what it would be like to stay at the cabin a little longer, maybe until morning. What it would be like to wake up after an entire night of sleeping peacefully, wrapped up in strong arms, what it would be like to find out if Bucky is the kind of person who wakes up and hops straight out of bed in the morning, and if Tony could convince him to linger.

He ends up having JARVIS repeat the list to him more than once.

By the time he makes it back to the tower Tony has _almost_ gotten his head on straight again, has _almost_ been able to banish all the useless thoughts about things he’ll never be able to have anyways. He parks the car in the usual spot and then makes his way to the elevator, avoiding so much as looking over at any of the work tables because he just _knows_ that if he does he won’t make it upstairs for at least half a day.

And he promised Bucky he’d at least _try_ to go back to sleep.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket on the elevator ride up to the penthouse and types out a message, then chews on his lip for a moment before deleting it and typing out a much shorter one.

Snowflake  
  
**Saturday** 1:14 AM   
Made it home safe and sound.   
Thank you darlin. About to make it home myself.   
You heading back to bed?   
On my way now. Resisting the urge to build a real quick world domination device first.   
lol I believe in you. Sweet dreams baby 💋   
You too   
💋 

* * *

Tony tries to go back to sleep, he really does, but after two hours of laying in bed staring at the ceiling he gives up.

There are too many things he needs to do running through his head, no matter how hard he tries to shut it out. Rhodey is going to be in town in a little over a week, and Tony needs to make sure he’s finished and quadruple checked all the upgrades for the armor.

Because if he’s going to let his best friend fight his battles for him, he’s damn sure going to make sure Rhodey is as decked out as possible while he does it, and Tony still hasn’t gotten the improved flight stabilizers _quite perfect._ And he still has several pieces of equipment he needs to get finished if he’s going to take them up to the Avenger’s compound when he sees Rhodey.

The bots beep at him in greeting when he steps into the lab, and FRIDAY brings all the lights up without commenting on the time for once.

Tony knows what time it is just fine, thank you, but stepping up to the workbench with a steaming mug of coffee and pulling up all his holograms is the most settled he’s felt since he left the cabin.

Losing himself in lines of code and working out the details of new designs is familiar, it’s _easy._ It’s not exactly _relaxing,_ but at least he doesn’t have to think about anything else. Like the guilt over letting Rhodey take his place when the man has more than enough on his plate already, the fact that he’ll have to go out to the compound and be reminded of what he lost in his latest major screw up. Or trying to work out exactly how he should word his email to Pepper letting her know he needs more time next week _without_ her asking any follow up questions, because then he might admit that he doesn’t _know_ why he needs the extra time. Or of course the incredibly distracting line of thought that is letting himself wonder what _exactly_ it is that Bucky has planned anyways.

There are a lot of things Tony is avoiding thinking about as he works, and as a bonus he gets to feel like he’s accomplishing something at the same time. Which is why working has always been his favorite way of avoiding his problems.

“Pardon the intrusion, sir,” JARVIS says, jolting him out of his daze, and Tony’s head snaps up.

He dimly registers that the sun has well and truly risen, reflecting brightly off the other buildings through the tinting on the windows, but most of Tony’s thoughts are focused on how it feels like it's been _so long_ since he last heard JARVIS’ voice through the tower workshop. It makes Tony’s chest go abruptly tight, his fingers skittering across his keyboard and for a moment he can’t _breathe_ under the sudden ache of nostalgia.

“No intrusion,” he says in a voice that’s choked with emotion and so much for not thinking about the things he’s lost, “What’s up, J?”

“You have a delivery,” JARVIS says, mercifully as always unphased by Tony’s sudden need to blink back tears, “A courier is on the way up to leave it in the penthouse now.”

Tony hums thoughtfully, then asks “And how thoroughly did Happy vet the poor delivery personnel before letting them up?”

“Extremely,” FRIDAY chimes in, with that edge of amusement Tony is pretty sure proves the claims that she actively encourages Happy’s overzealous security style.

“Right,” Tony says with a nod, because he really shouldn’t be surprised anymore, and then adds “Make sure the poor kid gets double the normal tip.” JARVIS confirms that he will, and Tony’s head snaps up from where he’d been just about to lose himself in his screens again as something occurs to him. “Not that I’m complaining, but, why are you handling deliveries here?”

“It’s from the cabin, sir,” JARVIS says, and Tony’s nose wrinkles as he tries to remember what he might have left that JARVIS deemed worthy of having rush delivered to him, but nothing is coming to mind. “I hope you don’t mind me using the tower’s systems.”

“Of course not,” Tony says quickly, “And FRIDAY doesn’t mind, do you?” He grins and nods in approval when she readily confirms that JARVIS is welcome to it, heart swelling at the thought of how quickly his AI is growing this time around, the fact that Tony hasn’t lost him after all. “That’s good, because if you two can’t get along I’ll have to send you to your rooms, and I’m not even sure how that would work,” he adds, because it would be way too easy to get emotional right now.

“At the risk of being _‘sent to my room,’”_ JARVIS says, giving the words a healthy dose of sarcasm that makes Tony smile a little wider, “I do suggest you get to this delivery sooner, rather than later, as it _will_ spoil if left in the travel cooler.”

“What?” Tony asks, already shoving himself up off his stool because it is now _killing_ him, _what_ did he leave that needs to be refrigerated?!

He ponders it the entire elevator ride up to the penthouse, and he is somehow still completely unprepared when he sets the cooler on the counter and opens it to find leftover salmon and rice from yesterday. There’s even what looks like most of the carrot cake carefully packed in as well, and Tony can only stare for a second.

It looks like a perfect meal’s worth of food, except for the extra amount of cake, and Tony hadn’t even realized there _were_ leftovers, much less expected to have them specially delivered to him.

“Did Bucky ask to have this sent here?” he asks, and then nods jerkily when JARVIS confirms it, because while that _is_ the answer he expected Tony still doesn’t know what to _do_ with it. There’s not even a note or anything, and Tony refuses to think about why he finds that a little disappointing.

His stomach growling loudly is what finally snaps Tony out of his stunned daze, aggressively reminding him that he hasn’t had anything but coffee since he left the cabin last night.

“Isn’t there a rule about not microwaving fish?” He asks out loud, because he might not spend much time in kitchens, even to reheat things, but he’s pretty sure that’s a thing he’s heard.

“Only in public spaces,” FRIDAY says reluctantly, and Tony crows victoriously. “Or I could heat the oven for you,” she adds, but Tony is already dumping the container of rice and salmon onto a plate and shoving it into the microwave.

“No time for that,” he says, hitting the ‘reheat’ button and hoping that actually works, and then he shoots a narrowed eye look at the ceiling. “I don’t know why you’re complaining FRI, you don’t even have a sense of smell,” he points out as he grabs for the silverware drawer, his attention turning to the carrot cake.

“I think it’s the point of the thing, sir,” JARVIS chimes in, and Tony huffs around his mouthful of cake.

“You are _not_ allowed to start ganging up on me,” he says, pointing his fork at the ceiling, “I _will_ put you both on separate flash drives, don’t think I won’t.”

“Of course, boss,” FRIDAY says dryly, and Tony shakes his head as he leans back against the counter, laughing softly and cutting himself another bite of cake.

When the microwave beeps he eagerly sets the remains of the cake aside and grabs for the plate of warm food, which smells _amazing_ as far as he’s concerned.

It doesn’t look quite as pretty as when Bucky had arranged everything on the platter, but that’s mostly Tony’s impatience, and the first bite still has him groaning happily. He doesn’t even bother wandering over to one of the barstools on the other side of the island, just scoops himself up another bite and then before he even thinks about it Tony is pulling his phone from his pocket and snapping a picture.

Snowflake  
  
**Saturday** 11:49 AM   
[](https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/672606471950696489/802842800512958474/image0.jpg)  
  
10/10   
Still amazing even reheated, how did you do this are you some kind of wizard   
😂 glad to hear it darlin   
Avoiding the question I see 🤔   
But also thanks. This was... really nice of you   
Of course baby, makes me happy to know you’re eating properly   
I mean I ate most of the cake first, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves   
But still. Gonna get spoiled at this rate   
😂😂😂   
Good 💋 

* * *

Once he’s finished eating Tony gets back to work. He goes to his afternoon meeting, resists the urge to text Bucky during it, and then heads back to his workshop.

By the time he’s struggling to keep his eyes open, all the screens blurring in front of him, the sun is just barely starting to set again. He’s pretty sure he’s figured out what was throwing off the balance in the new propulsion system he’s been working on, he has a couple things currently being pieced together by diligent robotic arms, and it seems like as good a time for a break as any.

Tony briefly considers stumbling up to bed, but dismisses the idea and flops down across the lumpy workshop couch instead, waving for FRIDAY to turn down the lights. He knows he’s not actually going to sleep for long, not with the way his brain is still spinning in about thirty different directions, so he might as well stay down here where he can get right back to it when he wakes up.

“Hey JARVIS,” he says as he tosses one arm over his eyes, “Can you read me the latest version of that termination paperwork HR has worked up? I know I saw that email in there somewhere.”

“Not a very good bedtime story, sir,” JARVIS says disapprovingly, and Tony can’t help snorting in amusement as warmth floods his chest again at the familiarity of it.

“Ok fine,” Tony says, not bothering to move his arm from over his eyes as he slowly sinks into the couch, relaxing bit by bit.

Exhaustion is warring with the nervous tension still thrumming through him and odds are already pretty low he’ll actually be able to sleep at all. It probably won’t help to hear about the newest lines that needed to be added to ensure that _no,_ the asshole does _not_ get to take technology developed with SI funds and SI equipment with him when he leaves. If Tony lets that happen he’ll still know that his company- that _he’s_ responsible for the weapons that inevitably come from it. At least this way the guy will have to start from scratch, and it’s not _much_ better but at least it’s _something._

A distraction sounds like it might be exactly what Tony needs, actually, so he says “Fine, J, any suggestions then?”

“I like Goldilocks,” FRIDAY chimes in.

Tony barks out a rough laugh, because how is this his _life,_ but he can’t be bothered to think of anything else so he just waves his free hand for JARVIS to have at it.

JARVIS’ familiar voice fills the workshop again, steady and sure and Tony lets out a slow breath, lets himself pretend for a second that it’s years ago and he has so much less weighing him down, so much less winding him up tight. He’s too exhausted to even laugh at the fact that the mess of coming home from Afghanistan and overhauling his entire life could be considered a _simpler time,_ and Tony falls asleep somewhere around the second bowl of porridge.

* * *

_He’s falling through the wormhole again._

_Guaranteed destruction in the form of countless war ships lays out before him, surrounded by the terrifying expanse of space, and there’s only more death waiting for him below._

_The wormhole isn’t closing and there’s nothing to catch him. Tony doesn’t even have his armor this time, all he has is his car battery clutched close to his chest, **useless.**_

_The ground is rushing up to meet him and no one is going to catch him. All of his friends are already gone, Tony doesn’t need to look down at the wreckage sprawled out below him, he **knows.** He can feel it in the empty ache in his rib cage, the bone deep knowledge that he **didn’t do enough.**_

_He lands in the desert, burning sun and scorching sand and no one is coming for him this time._

_Tony is alone, and no one is coming._

_He didn’t do enough and now he’s going to die lost in an endless expanse of sand, **useless,** clutching his dying car battery while the wormhole stretches wide above him._

_No one is coming._

* * *

Tony wakes up choking on nothing and scrambling at empty air, desperately trying to find his car battery, where _is it,_ he needs it he can’t _breathe—_

And then he wakes up enough to realize what he’s doing, that he’s about to tumble straight off the couch in his search for something he doesn’t even _need._ He flails his way upright and back onto the couch fully with a choked sound, and it’s not until one of the bot’s concerned beeping finally filters through the panicked fuzz in his brain that Tony realizes he’s still _not breathing._

He digs his fingers into the cushions of the couch, fighting the urge to claw at the edges of the arc reactor instead, and after a second of struggle he finally manages to drag in a sharp, ragged breath.

And then another.

And then he’s breathing _too_ quickly, chest heaving and throat burning as he curls down around himself, air sawing in and out of his lungs and it _aches._ His skull throbs in time with his racing heart and his thoughts are a staticky mess of memories and lingering nightmares, all the things he needs to finish, the preparations, he’s not _ready—_

He knows what he _actually_ needs to do, this is far from the first time Tony has woken up from a nightmare and launched straight into a panic attack, but it still takes him entirely too long to actually _do_ anything about it. Eventually though he convinces himself to uncurl from his protective hunch, sitting up straight against the back of the couch and it still takes nearly a minute for him to slow his shaking gasps.

He can do this, he just needs to breathe for a minute, he just needs to get himself under control and everything will be _fine._ Everything will be fine and Tony can get back to work, he doesn’t have _time for this._

“Boss, your heart rate isn’t slowing,” FRIDAY says cautiously, “Should I call someone?”

Tony shakes his head, but every time he closes his eyes he sees sand, he can feel it in his eyes and digging into his skin. Every time he closes his eyes he feels like he’s falling and he knows what he needs.

“Rhodey,” he wheezes out, dropping his head back against the couch and squeezes his eyes shut against the frustrated, _exhausted_ tears trying to build, “Call Rhodey.”

He doesn’t actually expect Rhodey to answer, it’s got to be the middle of the night in New York by now and who _knows_ what time it is wherever Rhodey is, but even the sound of the ring echoing through the workshop makes it a little easier to breathe. He’ll get Rhodey’s voicemail, and he’ll get to hear Rhodey’s super serious request that he leave a _‘clear, short message,’_ which always makes him smile because he _knows_ it’s directed at him. Tony won’t actually leave a message, and by the time Rhodey calls back Tony will have had a chance to put himself back together.

Tony is counting down the rings, trying to match his breathing to the steady rhythm of it, and he’s seconds away from the reassuring sound of Rhodey’s voicemail when the line connects instead.

“Hey Tones!” Rhodey says, voice bright and getting clearer as he speaks, like he didn’t quite get it all the way to his ear first, “That was a close one, I barely caught you!”

That particular choice of words after the night he’s had forces a strangled laugh out of Tony, and he swears he can _hear it_ when Rhodey starts worrying.

“Did you have to go lunging across the room to grab the phone? Break any more expensive lamps?” Tony asks as he finally lifts his head from the back of the couch and a tiny, weak smile starts to grow on his face.

“That was _one time,”_ Rhodey says with a faux-annoyed huff, and Tony grins a little wider at the fact that Rhodey’s tone doesn’t change at all even as he carefully asks “Did you call just to try and make me break things again?”

“Yep,” Tony says, but his breath hitches wetly when he tries to pop the final syllable obnoxiously. Rhodey doesn’t say anything else just waits him out as Tony focuses on the sound of Rhodey’s steady breathing filling the lab, matching his own to it and feeling a little less alone before he finally admits “Just, you know, long week at the office.”

“Just the week?” Rhodey asks, and Tony can so clearly picture the small, knowing smirk on Rhodey’s face that he can’t help another soft laugh. “Isn’t it almost two in the morning for you?”

”If you say so,” Tony jokes with a shrug, because he really wouldn’t know. If either of his AIs had tried to tell him he certainly hadn’t heard it.

Rhodey laughs, and then his voice gentles a little as he asks, “Have you slept at all, or is this one of those mid-manic-inventing-binge phone calls?”

”Hmm, little bit of both?” Tony admits as he looks around at the half-finished projects and forgotten coffee cups, the blanket one of the bots must have draped over him that he kicked to the floor at some point.

”So I _don’t_ have to talk you out of building a fully functional Dr Brundle machine?” Rhodey asks, because he always knows exactly when to drag answers out of Tony, and when to just let him bullshit his way around the problem until he’s ready to face it.

“I mean, _now_ you do,” Tony says with a laugh that actually feels _real,_ gratitude washing over him that despite everything, he still has Rhodey. The twisted knot of tension in his chest is slowly starting to unwind and Tony finally relaxes his death grip on the couch cushion, finally drags in a deep breath that _doesn’t_ ache. “I’m going to do it,” he adds, and his voice actually comes out steady for the first time in the phone call, “Going to fuse myself with the mouse that’s still running loose in my workshop somewhere. Become MouseMan.”

“Awful, I can’t believe I put that idea in your head,” Rhodey says, his eyeroll as audible as his wide smile.

“You’ll still love me, right sourpatch?” Tony asks with a pout, uncurling his legs to stretch out across the couch again and at this point he can _almost_ ignore the fact that his head is still throbbing. He just has to focus on teasing his best friend, so he asks, “You’ll come feed me cheese?”

“I will not,” Rhodey replies instantly, and he doesn’t even have the manners to sound ashamed of himself, just laughs when Tony makes offended noises.

“I’m still going to do it,” Tony says, and then chews on his lip for a second before adding “It’ll give me something to do when the nightmares keep me up at least.”

Rhodey hums softly in understanding, and it’s obvious he considers his words carefully before simply asking “Anything new?”

“Same old same old,” Tony says with a sigh, rubbing at his tired eyes in frustration because that really is the truth, and honestly he’s pretty bored of waking up from the same nightmares with the same panic thrumming through his chest.

“That sucks, I’m sorry Tones,” Rhodey says, and Tony huffs out a soft laugh because it really does, and that really is all that can be said about it. “If you can’t sleep,” Rhodey adds, “I know something you can do—“

“No,” Tony interrupts, because he can tell by the tone of Rhodey’s voice that this is _not_ a real suggestion, and he loves Rhodey with all his heart for offering him a distraction but that doesn’t mean Tony can just let him _get away with it._

“Watch Downton Abbey—“

_“No—“_

_“Yes,”_ Rhodey insists with a laugh, “Happy got me into it with his endless ranting and now I need you to get caught up to where I am, so when we hang out I can tell you _all of my thoughts.”_

“I just remembered,” Tony says in a flat tone even as he grins at the ceiling, “I have to go to the _moon_ the exact time you’re in town, what a tragedy.”

”Yeah, a real tragedy,” Rhodey says with a laugh, “I will track you down Tony, you will not escape my thoughts on curtains. Lacy, gently wafting curtains.”

“Is this payback for all my—“

_“Yes_ this is payback for all your Star Trek ranting when we were in college!” Rhodey says emphatically, and then raises his voice to be heard over Tony’s laughter as he adds “I can still recite entire episodes in my sleep!”

“And _you’re welcome_ for that,” Tony insists, “that is a _free service,_ you don’t even have to thank me.”

“I’m gonna disown you, is what I’m gonna do,” Rhodey grumbles with a fond smile that Tony can picture _so clearly_ that for a second it makes his breath catch all over again, chest swelling so huge in his chest that the tension can’t compete.

“Too late, I already filed the paperwork,” he says flippantly, “I’m your responsibility now.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Rhodey says with a laugh, and they fall into comfortable silence for a minute before he asks “So what are you up to when you’re not building or failing to sleep, anything new?”

Tony freezes in the act of reaching over to grab the nearest abandoned coffee mug, heart leaping into his throat because that _had_ sounded kind of pointed, like he _knows_ there’s something to tell, and what if he’s talked to Pepper, what if he _does_ know?

“Nothing,” he chokes out, because no, Pepper wouldn’t say anything, this is probably the equally unfortunate option of Rhodey just knowing him entirely too well, but that doesn’t stop Tony from squeaking “Nothing at all.”

“Uh huh,” Rhodey says in his most unimpressed voice, and if he didn’t know something was up before he definitely does _now._

Tony sputters for a second, floundering for something to say that’ll actually be convincing because he really doesn’t want to talk about what’s _new_ in his life right this second. Mostly because the memory of waking up warm and safe in Bucky’s arms is still too fresh, too close to the surface, and Tony is pretty sure if he opens his mouth he’s going to start waxing poetic and that won’t really help with convincing Rhodey that it’s _not a big deal._

The point is that Tony is nowhere _near_ knowing how to bring the whole _Bucky_ thing up to his often overly protective best friend, except that he needs to do it _carefully,_ and ideally when Rhodey isn’t going to be in the country any time soon.

Which is why Tony is so horrified to find himself blurting “Nothing you can’t wait to interrogate me about in person, anyways.”

As soon as the words are out Tony wants to curse himself, because that is the exact _opposite_ of his plan, and the gleeful laugh that Rhodey lets out is _not_ making him feel any better.

“Good point,” Rhodey says brightly, and Tony drops his head back against the couch again with a groan of complaint. “That works even better,” he adds, like he _knows_ that he’s ruining Tony’s plans, “Then it’ll be talk about yourself or talk about Downton Abbey, and I’ll be happy either way.”

”Awful, I’m hanging up on you now,” Tony says flatly even as he lets out a tiny sigh of relief. Sure, he may have only put the conversation off for a little while, but at least he doesn’t have to have it _now._ And hopefully by the time he _does_ have to have this conversation he’ll have figured out what to say, and if he’s lucky maybe he’ll even be more awake. If he’s _really_ lucky Rhodey will forget all together, but that doesn’t seem likely.

”Not if I hang up on you first,” Rhodey says, and then makes exaggerated poking-at-his-phone noises while Tony laughs.

Tony rubs at his eyes again as his laughter slowly fades away, forcibly shoving away the exhaustion trying to creep back up on him in favor of smiling softly at the ceiling again and _so happy_ that he didn’t get Rhodey’s voicemail. “Thanks platypus, I—“ he says haltingly, “This was helpful.”

“Anytime, Tones, always happy to bullshit with you,” Rhodey says gently and Tony huffs out another laugh, nearly overwhelmed all over again by the wave of gratitude and affection that rushes through him and he’ll never understand what he did to deserve a friend like Rhodey. “I’ll see you soon to interrogate you properly,” Rhodey reminds him, “So make sure you have the frozen pizzas ready to go.”

“You know one of these days we can get actual _good_ pizza—“

_“Frozen. Pizza,”_ Rhodey insists sternly, “the cheap shitty ones. You don’t mess with tradition.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m actually hanging up now, I can’t talk to you when you get like this about frozen pizza,” Tony says, shaking his head sadly and waving a hand for FRIDAY to end the call.

“Go to bed!” Rhodey shouts just before the line goes dead, and Tony grins at the empty workshop.

It’s kind of amazing, how much more settled he feels after talking to Rhodey. All of his problems are still very real, there’s still a thrum of anxious tension in his chest that he can also feel throbbing behind his eyes, but at least the lingering fringes of his nightmare has been mostly banished.

Tony briefly considers actually taking Rhodey’s advice and going upstairs to bed, but just as quickly he dismisses the idea. He’s already well and truly awake by now, and he can’t shake the feeling that if he lays back down he’ll go right back to falling.

No, much better to get up and get back to work. And Tony knows the perfect way to clear his mind.

“FRI, are the upgrades to the heavy armor ready for testing?” He asks as he shoves himself to his feet and stretches his arms up above his head with a slight wince.

“Ready to rock and roll, boss,” she confirms, and Tony grins.

Suiting up doesn't take long, the armor he wants is still front and center because it’s basically the only one he uses anymore. It’s the same design as the War Machine armor, much bulkier and heavier than most of Tony’s own suits, and it’s where he tests all the upgrades these days because they’re for Rhodey’s armor first and foremost anyways. All that matters is that everything is perfectly calibrated for the War Machine suit, that Rhodey is as safe as possible.

Once the suit finishes sealing closed around him the platform rises through the workshop, bringing him up to the launch pad. The HUD flickers to life in the helmet, laid over the bright city lights, and it feels _right_ in a way that Tony really wishes he didn’t miss.

He takes a deep breath, takes a couple steps, and drops himself over the edge of the tower.

For several infinite seconds he’s in free fall, the roar of the wind muted by the armor, his heart lurching and his stomach dropping. And then he kicks on all the repulsors, and he _flies._

It still makes his breath catch a little every time, that moment when falling turns to flying, the change in wind pressure as he shoots upwards instead. The _freedom_ of it. He’s wrapped entirely in metal but he’s weightless, moving so quickly that the world beneath him blurs, completely in control.

Tony has never felt anything like it, and he’s _missed it._

He’s out for over an hour, the city still alive and shifting beneath him as he weaves his way through buildings. It’s long enough to make sure everything is perfectly calibrated, and then an extra lap or two around the city to clear his head. And then one more just for the fun of it.

As soon as he lands the armor starts to unfold from around him, and Tony slumps a little without it holding him up. The dull throb in his head that he woke up with has grown into a sharp ache, and he heads for the penthouse instead of riding down to the workshop again.

“Get everything synced up with the compound, will you FRI?” He asks as he shuffles past the kitchen, casting a brief glance at the coffee maker before moving on, “I want everything ready for when I get out there.”

Whatever FRIDAY says doesn’t quite register past the thrum of blood in his ears, but it sounds affirmative so Tony doesn’t put too much thought into it. As the adrenaline from the flight fades away with every step he takes he feels exhaustion weighing him down, too tired to even remember all the reasons he _doesn’t_ want to sleep.

He collapses into bed, his head aching but blissfully empty for now, and something tells Tony he’ll feel worse in the morning.

But for now he’s too exhausted to even dream as he falls asleep.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This stunning rotoscope brought to you by the amazing Latelierderiot!](https://latelierderiot.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Saw this on Tumblr and I think it's a lovely idea--feel free to copy and paste into your own fics!!
> 
> Emoji Key for those who don't know what to say in the comments!
> 
> ❤ = you wish you could kudos again  
> 😭 = I got you right in the feels  
> 🔥 = this was so hot!  
> 🐰 = it’s so fluffy!


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